Winter’s Hunt


Over Olympus, Orion has risen,
Exhaling his long-withheld, icy breath.
Whilst Persephone spends six months in pris'n,
He veils the land in soft, silent, white death.
With his sword and shield of the starry night
He chases beasts to seek refuge in sleep,
While his hounds send fowl on their southbound flight.
Hunting the ill, he leaves loved ones to weep
As they scratch their graves in the frozen ground,
Without a eulogistic rose around.
But forever he'll stay in heav'n above,
Given his place through Diana's great love.
Warmth dare not enter Orion's domain,
'Til Far-Striker's scorpion sting ends his reign.

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