Bow to the Frost
The pine bends low,
the white fields listen
One black bell under frozen ground
You hear that knock beneath the
floor
Old wood breathing through the door
No fire left,
but the cold still bite Your
name goes pale in the northern
white I keep one blade of
a quiet vow
You wanted answers,
take them now
Footprints end where the ravine turns
Some things wait while the whole
world burns
Hold your breath,
don’t look behind
The cold has learned the shape
of your mind
Bow to the frost,
bow to the stone
This is the north,
and it takes its own
Low drums call through the hollow
night We come back when the
snow turns white
You drew a line in the
frozen rain
Thought thin ice was a chest
to make
I watched your torch lose all
its flame The dark stood still
when I said your name No
crowded room, no witness near Just
iron sky and the ringing ear
You hear my steps,
then the sound is gone And
the long night waits till the
weak move on
Hold your breath,
don’t look behind
The cold has learned the shape
of your mind
Bow to the frost,
bow to the stone
This is the north,
and it takes its own Low
drums call through the hollow night
We come back when the snow
turns white
Under the ice,
under the hill
Ancient hands are turning still
If you cross where the ravens
fly Leave your warm words and
your last goodbye
Bow to the frost,
bow to the stone
This is the north,
and it takes its own Low
drums call through the hollow night
We come back when the snow
turns white Bow to the frost,
don’t speak,
don’t run The old blood awakes
when the day is done
White strings rise and the ground
replies No warmth survives where the
white wind lies
The pine bends low,
the white fields listen
One black bell under frozen ground