I

This is the world (the painter says)

Reduced by ice and snow, bone-bare.

       Then ride in mercenaries.

Armed to the teeth they introduce

       Fear, panic and despair.

They’d trace a king. How can they know

                                 He is not here?

II

Where earth encounters heaven, cloud

Frays on the trees that spike the air.

       Ranks crumble to a crowd

Of stragglers. Some, bemused and dazed

       By light’s intrusion, stare

At one the light has felled, who sees

                                 What is not there.

III