Winter is calling.
You may think the sun is too hot.
You may think spring is in the air
Or summer is still too close
Or we are not so deep into fall.

But still Winter calls.

And she does not call like a lover.
There is no alluring cadence
Or seductive tone.
There is no promise of
Infinite joy.

She does not call like a friend
Eager to go shopping
Or to the movies
Or just anywhere
For the sake of it.

No.

Winter calls like a mother
Who,
Having just watched her baby die
For no reason
At the hands of some fool
Whose only answer to her question is
“at least it’s summer outside”,
Now climbs the tallest tower
And sounds the clarion
Stored there.

That is the sound
Of Winter’s call.

Heads are rising at the sound of it.
Swords are sharpened
And armies mustered
At the sound of Winter’s
Clarion call.

Do not pretend that you do not hear it.
Only ask if you dare to answer
Or if you dare to refuse.

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