“Note to Self” a poem

In the midst of Winter's dance
against a blackened sky the winds will chant
with no clouds to break its maddening rant
the gods will come to join you

If you try to move, you'll find you can't
as heaven will its glory plant
placing you deep in a trance
you'll turn to see yourself

And as gods must, so they will
be in search of jest and no-so-subtle thrill
dazzled by cries sharp and shrill
these haunts will amaze you