Maids of Thule

A Poem by Giorgio Veneto

An Iambic tetrameter poem. A half-surreal approach to entities of the past that wander in air, above Thule - the ancients land's end. Thule: The geographical region believed by ancient geographers to

My stare in grayness turns to sky;
snow rules above trees' foliage eaves;
the scene is white, the clouds spry,
snowflakes fall slow on paper sheaves.

Morpheus' acception 'bout surrounds,
this time of dusk that forwards guise;
keen aptitude of night abounds,
my image hung on skylight, flies.

Melt rain drops fall on paper scripts,
under the street lights look like tears,
air's winter maids have sealed their lips,
on frozen lakes they slide for years.

Amid the snowflakes, laugh and cry,
while the soft snow silently falls,
and picturesque the dusk comes shy,
defying in woods my voice and calls.

And as my calls with darkness blend,
their laugh-waves drift on Greenland's Thule,
blithe sounds for years, in air extend,
through gray winter's and snowflakes tulle.