THE STRIKE OF THE HUORNS

VAST under vault of the over-earth standing,
Vestured in verdigris unvarnished ever,
Armoured in arrows that arch from the bough,
All massed they march, upon mountainside gathered
In legion of limbs unloath to lift,
As roots all enwrithen are riven from soil
To grasp at the greenway, the ground athwart.
Fearsome in fortitude, fell is their purpose,
When warwards the woven-leaved wanderers tend.
Cruel were the cuts of the cold axe-heads hewing –
Brutal with blows did the bold foe advance
To tear the wild tapestry, twisted and worked
From arc of the ages, amassed over eons,
From heartwood of history hallowed in memory,
Spun from the sinews of sea-sister dark,
Of eldritch Earth, the eldmother ancient,
Her reaches half-razed, and wracked her form.
Thus vengeance is vaunted, and vigilance reigns
As wrathful they range, revenge pursuant
For ravages wreaked on ranks once unrolling
To Earth-helm’s edge – the errant army
Of shafts unsheathed from shadowy soil
Now marches in marshalled formation afar,
Whither fearsome fibres of foes unhuman
At day’s-end dire, shall doom be dealt,
Each kneeling, unknit by a needle-clad hand,
As soundless smite the sword-skin host.