- Imbolc 2011, 2:17am MST Old Ethan like a walking stick, daylong shadow: sets him after a halfway pole fifty mile through a dankling woods. October throwed his scarecoat down. November framed those woods a house of smoke. December painted the black days white. Come January, the ringnecks froze in place. Treelocked they'll sit 'til April flumes their melted songs to the sea. Now Midwinter: a milepost on a swerving road, a weed in a tombyard. Turns him 'round and marks for home. Never know home until you get there, never know halfways at all.