On icy peaks, where frost paints every bough,
A flicker dances, whispers soft as vow.
A Foxcicle glides, beneath the pale moonlight,
Fur like stardust, eyes of winter’s white.
It howls a melody, that chills the air,
An aurora’s echo, a secret fair.
For in its song, the frozen north unfolds,
Of ancient magic, tales untold.
A hunter skilled, with claws of sharpened ice,
Yet in its gaze, a gentle wisdom lies.
It guards the mountains, secrets locked within,
From poachers bold, and those who trespass in.
So come not seeking battle, trophy cold,
But offer respect, let your story unfold.
With patience shown, and understanding’s plea,
The Foxcicle’s trust, you may set free.
Then in the dance of shadows on the snow,
Its playful spirit, like the northern lights will flow.
It’ll guide you through the icy labyrinthine maze,
To hidden wonders, beneath the aurora’s blaze.
And as the sun ignites, the mountains start to gleam,
The Foxcicle vanishes, a whispered, winter dream.
But in your heart, its song will forever stay,
A reminder of magic, on a distant, snowy day.