Regal sits the king, perched high above silent forested malaise
In restless contempt his wings unfurl the end of twilight’s haze
He rests upon his throne of oak, one afflicted by winter’s kiss
A graceful silhouette bathed in the darkness of heaven’s abyss
Embraced in the moon’s stoic halo, crowned in its celestial rays
Ethereal admirers adorn him in radiant splendor, cloaking him amidst a divine maze
Glistening ice crystals thaw beneath his steady, unabated breath
As hushed shadows amid the woodland timbers evade the gaze of midnight’s sentinel of death
With silence in his stance and solitude in his heart, meditating on a moonlit helm
His speckled white plumage concealed as a blizzard of gales of grey flurry cloak his realm
Nobility is his nature; resolute resilience asserts his claim over his domain
A vigilant visage lies dormant beneath the façade his dispassionate marbled eyes feign
His call to arms resoundingly echoes unabated across a forest floor veiled in wintry bliss
Urgent convictions fuel his flight, elevating his passions without restraint or remiss
A graceful ghost in aerial delight amongst a vibrant crystalline backdrop of iridescent delight
His aura transcends beyond the earthly mists, a spiritual guide fading amidst the shadows of morning light