On a bleak evening in November, the first snow begins to fall. Surrounded by towering spruce, fir, and cedar trees, the scent of damp, fallen leaves and distant wood smoke lulls you into reverie. Here are only the sounds of dripping foliage and raven song, and the lights of home have all but faded.
In times like these, when the warmth of the sun seems only a memory, the spirit is changed, and the allure of darkness and oblivion becomes tempting. But, tread swiftly traveler; for the cold is fleeting, and you have miles to go before you sleep.
Credits
Composed and produced by Hircine.
My gratitude to Shelly Holme, Fiadh Productions, Altar of Moss,
and the dungeon synth and fantasy music community for their support over the years.
Wood Smoke Poetry is dedicated to the memory of Betty Seltner.
Cover painting by Wilhelm von Gegerfelt (public domain)