Beyond the howling ice north winds
wild sea horses sleep
in shell-crust stables strung with pearls
on sand bed meadows deep.
There tempestuous storms are brewed
spun dark with narwhal horns
web-woven into whirlpool twists
with mermaids’ spindle thorns.
Come white horses sea-born runners
catch the tide-blown spray,
rearing, prancing, foam-line dancing
greet the dawning day.
Leap the boiling spindrift crests
surf the curling waves,
coral skimming, trit-trot swimming
over crystal caves.
Leave your beds, hear the call
with oceans swirling high,
come white horses, ink-torn clouds
are shadowing the sky.
Maelstrom rising, currents racing
hear the waters’ roar,
rearing, prancing, foam-line dancing
to the distant shore.
Curly Moon 