Upon a Winter's Eve

In the quickening depth
of winter's cold, frozen breath,
when time more lingers than flies,
Jackals of black soot and flames
break from chimney stack and chains,
to prowl the glowering sky.

The grinning Buglies, I'm told,
become ever so bold
and lurk near swings at the park;
Where beasts, red in tooth and claw,
search for tenderlings to gnaw
and run hurdy-gurdy through the dark.

Creeping through forest and stream
comes the oviparous Sleen
seeking a warm home for its young.
And your hair, my tremorous youth,
though it seems quite uncouth,
is the nest from which they'd be slung.

Trees, who in summer so dear,
become things to be feared,
their naked branches raking the sky.
And the birds that they shelter
whistle Helter-Skelter...
and gaze hungrily at your eyes.

So, at winter's day ending
upon the moon's portending,
forego your mischief and come inside.
But, step softly my child,
though the fire seems mild
its temperance may not always be scried.