Colors seen upon the dark horizon
Heralds the future of a weary force,
Blue and green upon the setting sun
A glimmer of swords, spears, and shields.
An army stops in a grove of trees
Red and gold in the still cold air,
Fires light against the sky
Warming the hearts of cold-hearted men.
The world is hushed in anticipation
For lights can be seen
Great fires of beech logs
Within the camp of blue and green.
The hoot of an owl alone in the night
Breaks the silence of two armies,
Awaiting the day which will see a victor
Upon a field of frost and grass.
The break of dawn is long in coming
As the gold orb rises,
Snow flurries down
As delicate as lace.
The slumber of men is broken;
Activity flourishes in the camps,
Blue, green, and red, gold
Prepare for a battle to decide the future.
The vanguards gather,
In rigid lines
Pennants flying in a stiff breeze,
As armies face victory or death.
