Dancing through the long
night,
in walztes cold and crackling;
he flits across the
grass,
his piercing frosty cackling;
his fingers long and
thin,
that trace ice over the windows.
Air thick with misty
breath
clouds glass, shadows tell flight of crows.
His grin, his teeth so
sharp,
forged of ice his blue glinting eyes.
The morning frost in
flesh,
his last echo in the dawn sighs.