Vines Of Winter

Crystallized dew drops scatter across vines in winter, while I can feel the harsh grip of the season reaching for my throat, slithering ever closer, bitter air sweeping across crackling skin. Loneliness weighs heavy beneath ashen clouds that coat the skies. The scent of dry ozone fills my nostrils as I struggle to breathe. A step upon the gelid ground makes my feet shake, trying not to fall. I look out in every direction, seeing nothing but the barren carcass of what was once summer~ when the warmth of days seemed to stretch on forever. The scent of fresh pine once wafted through the breeze; those days are now just a bygone memory, shattered , lost in the frozen mist. I rub my hands together, desperate to feel something beyond the numbness. I continue onward with my journey~ there is no time for rest now. The sun begins to set upon alabaster fields below, and the wolves begin their search at dusk. I must find your burial shrouds before they do, for they are the only way to bring us back together again.