The moon is still a sickle in the sky
She sent her deluges in the night
Now she masses her army against trees and boughs
You wander beneath her gaze
In the night she woke you with battle
Unprepared your knights still slumbered
Now they wake, after fitful sleeping
They are not ready for the call to arms
She hides her light, as the mist spreads
Across the veiled trees and her treachery
Is obvious, her smile half wonderment
Half infidelity. She carried you here
On a flurry of icy blasts of wintertide
Now she turns and laughs, as you shake
Off your sleep, your weakened rays feeble
In the sky beside her, her solstice
Fresh, this dominion still her own
The tide, under her command, turns again
As you struggle across that misted sky
A shadow casts and catches, spreads
Winter star, winter sun, you call your army
Out across her sky, begin the move
From solstice, past festivals and feasting
Through spring until your dominion