The reindeers are restless
the wolves sowing fright
the pastures are petrified
in the polar night.
Gales are gathering
clouds are strengthening
crystals start scattering light.
Swirls in the skyline
a crow on a deadwood pine
wait for the wizard in white.

White is the night when winter comes
the change of season quiets the drums
hides the tracks of hunted preys
lightens up the darkest greys
slows the stream of vanishing days.
Calms the grieving piccolo
mutes the lonely trumpet blow
requiems now covered in snow.
White is the night when winter comes
the voice of the northern wind hums.

The fairies are fretful
the woods feeling blue
magic is mortified
hideaways are few.
Hardships confront a gnome
dreaming in monochrome
the softhearted underworld sound.
Tears of a leprechaun
are beating on his bodhran
breaking the spell that has been bound.

White is the night...

Yet no sign of a sled
but bells breaking the still
elves relish in red
head down the hill.
Beings joining the joy
myths, magic and glee
a rapt smile of a boy
chosen to see.

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