Above our head, hail forms, plummeting to pin prick curiosity
just as the jilted spring we foresaw disappears from view;
we crawl back to hide between the shadows of winter and yesterday.
New bells toll but sound out the dawning sun and they refuse
it a foothold until pale and wan like the crisp, bitter flakes
of morbid snow and frostbitten mouths that feed in it.
As snow comes to ponder deeply, black crevasses are eked out;
we peek into them and risk falling in with no hope of rescue
by warmth or thaw or sunlight, all dwarfed by a blizzard’s gloom.
Whilst caught sleeping, the dimness of winter is swallowed up
by tell tale signs of blue, airy skies wafting overhead –
the lustre of azure water swims in its eagerness to set us free…
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