The starlings sing above the snow
their lies to turn deep white to green
wings frost-bitten and sinew-strings
abiding flight amid the screams

And dreaming, find the whisper walks
amid the frost, pale-faced, steady-paced
Awe in lilting, careless gait
Whose path through mist is crystal-traced,
laced with ice swept from the air
whose very vapors cleave to her
And dreaming, find you cleave to her

Starling,
whisper me a secret here
Unfold through voice the fairytale

A naiad's nature in the air
Swept away, as if a listless, swift whisper
From the river of her fair features' detail
From the very essence where she prevails

Drink of dancing peerless form
Swept underwater, safe and warm
Wink of eye, touch of hand
tread riverbeds' loess and sand
And fingers, interlaced and fused
Never may of one make two that
Eyes may see and faces feel
When the depths will not reveal

Such scenery made this world home
Trees and hills to foil and loam
The birds that swam above our heads
Never sang the starling's voice
And smiling found the truth that now
The starling's note was old and dead

And dreaming, found her pale and blue
vacant gaze and heaving chest, eyes
longing against a home's requests
That her element's tendrils lapped,
wrapped slowly around her,
slowly bound her and pulled her under,
down to drown her, but never found her
vapored form above the water
treading softly tundra, before and after

Sickly singing green, beneath white waves
A starling found a wat'ry grave

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Lupar, in the year 384 AF.