Winter To Be Done

She’s pale and thin,
selkie out of her skin.
Auburn hair, green eyes,
fisherman promises plies
for her to come home with him,
She combs her hair, says no,
seething as he closer to her rows.
She pulls her skin over her,
now a seal with no need to defer.
Fisherman curses and yells,
and she makes curses, spells,
for she only wanted the sun,
and for the winter to be now done.
Fisherman rows back to shore.
Selkie will come here no more.
Cold water of the northern sea,
in its darkness, only place she is free.

2 thoughts on “Winter To Be Done

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