Northwind

a high north wind blows
whipping, whirling, skirling
an echo of highland pipes calling
across the twilight snows

the grey tower rises, alone
watching, reaching, hollow
clouds flow past, cold stars follow
the wind is a shiver, a moan

a long winter's night flows on
starlight, snowlight, and shadow
dreamfields lie stony and fallow
awake in my tower, I long for the dawn