Islands in Ivory

It seems stark This day in pale clothes A shivering scene held Inside a snowflake’s Tiny hands Like a snow globe Which scatters winter When shaken.

The sense of isolation pervades Helped by padded snow Echoes reduced to muffled sounds Indistinct words as if heard From a great distance Spoken by trembling giants.

Outside the air descends Surrounding with frosty tendrils; The effort to hold in heat Turns thoughts to fire and light And steaming kettles Of thick lentil soup.

Crows circle the gloaming sky Nature’s cleaning crew Watching for fallen things; Taken by the brutal winds, Stopped like clocks With frozen gears.

We remain trapped and still Like flies in amber; Hesitant to venture forth Exposing skin to icy blasts, To roam reckless against The blighted day; Eyes fearful and aware.