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Invocation to Rind
Winter to winter to winter.
Frost glitters cold on leaves,
Preserving them for a sparkling moment,
More lovely than they have ever been before.
Yet this loveliness slays them,
and they wither on the darkened branch.
Lady of the glittering frost,
Turner of time, winter to winter,
The mystery of coldīs preservation
Flows from your fingers, as does
The mystery of withering in the cold.
All turns to glistening crackles
At the touch of your pale cold fingertips.
Lady of the chill winter, frost-giantess
Who holds your fatherīs hall amidst
The snowy mountains, cool us with your touch
And freeze those memories we cling to
Into one perfect picture, so icy-clear
That we may savor them with indrawn breath
Like that which shocks the lungs on a
Winter morning. Teach us, also, the letting go
of rage, of betrayal, for these things too
Are a part of imperfect life. May the memories
We do not wish to keep slowly wither,
Blacken and fall, lost to the misty centuries,
That we may be healed, as you were,
By the cooling winds of Rime and Time.
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