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A light beacon in the iciest of regions,
Solar winds full of both brilliance and bluster
Glory of trenchant travelers from afar;
Skyward sorcery that time does not mar.
Shining with such a wonderful lustre,
Lantern of lucidity wherefore philosophers seek a Reason.
As every Winter grows thick,
The prowl of the sabretooth,
The hunger of the polar bear,
The pale of the moon's watchful eyeWhen one begins to sigh,
Wondering how your frost-bitten fingers will fare,
Knowing not how to go on, in sooth:
Suddenly, into place your bones and thoughts begin to click
As you look up and see her,
Fluorescing ever more wildly, frantically bright
Shimmering blue and silver
Fiercely haloing over you through the Night.
Her loyalists curse the cold which she can scarcely resist,
Trekking miles to reach her through the Evergreen forests.
She has the heart of a snow lioness
Looking after her cubs through harsh distress.
But though her beneficiaries honour her in a climate that's chilly,
She is not really averse to the comforts of Man.
In fact, she is a Lady of both magnanimity and indulgence
That it is yet unwise to deem too silly,
For she glows beyond all treats to a greater span:
Appearing before earth with a gift of utmost refulgence.
Existing by herself, like a hummingbird on a higher plane,
Where memories ancestral are stirred up, that have long been lain;

She unfurls and recharges in proud hermitage:
Ready to awaken, in you, in loneliest season and age.
Ready to ignite, when all hope seems lost;
Ready to find the Will to survive at any cost;
Ready to make the shoots push up even through the frost.
Ready to bring warmth and nourishment like the perfect host.
Though she is not perfect this much is true;
To the vulgar, her vanity sometimes stoops to kowtow.
Too in love with the humble creatures she ensnares, with a 'wow', and a
'woah'...
Too in love with the image which the crowds drew... So enthralled to the
show...
Hiding from her own lofty view
Her faults - covered by too blinding a virtue.
Mother, I still love you.
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