Winter sun

“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”)