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“wundor weardh on wege	water weardh to bane*”

Across the path of fallen leaves, dark and unremembered,
Millions of white crystals teeming from a leaden sky
Darting like tiny daggers into my eyes, blinking, smarting,
Over frozen ground, rapidly white, I lope cautiously
From the top of the wood, the fields are already covered
And the bare trees assume a garb resembling white feathers, 
Hazy in a white mist of a billion swirling, dancing crystals
As I trace a path through the virgin white forest paths
The storm ceases and with a pallid sun comes the frost
My feet chill as they crunch through the thickening snow
In the crevices of frozen mud, footprints of ice appear
Dull and bone-hard beneath the glistening white crystals
Even the slightest breeze brings a fake snowfall from the trees
Disappointed gratitude at the sight of a deceitful sun
Ever chillier, even the air against my face feels ice-hard
My breath coursing forth like the fumes of a steaming dragon
The only warmth save the blood pumping my legs forward
Through tracks white and hard, through an unfamiliar landscape
Seemingly recognisable, but utterly changed, almost instantly
And that poor impoverished sun, bright enough to blind,
But too weak to cherish, disturbs my erratic, stumbling way,
Until I depart from the wood, sliding on pavements of grey ice
Disguised by yet more flakes of snow, as the failing sun retreats
And a blizzard obliterates the darkening skies.
				



(* “On the way a wonder 	water became bone”)

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