Stumbling forth much cider-addled
swaddling-wrapp’d in Christmas cheer,
festive tunes beat marching rhythms
sung by luteous fuzz-blurred moon.
Light our tallow-faced meand’rings.
Light our way to Talkin Tarn.
Hill-top guardians, black-limb’d stanchions,
iron giants, arms outstretch’d,
spitting fizz, bright brittle crackling
arcs electric, purple hiss.
Walk the line of skeletal monsters.
Walk the line to Talkin Tarn.
Snow lined hollow, sleepy sheep all
fallow-buff like sugar lumps
fuddle thrown, sweet huddle-muddled
piled in china, white as bone.
Trudge our way in caravan.
Trudge our way to Talkin Tarn.
Bristled tines, pine scented arbour
succours snowy lunate shore,
underboot, soft-footed needlings;
seriatim rendered mute.
See the glist’ry icy vista,
see the myst’ry. Talkin Tarn.
Moon-loon madness overtaking,
dancing arm-linked can-can craic,
thwacking echo, snap-snap bull-whip,
ricochets deep down below.
Risk life’s brittle carapace.
Risk the kiss of Talkin Tarn.