Being snowed in can set a mind towards drifting |
Drifts Cars abandoned by the road In sheets, the white comes down With arteries stressed, underload In drifts that drape, we drown Going under... 'neath the drifts We hide inside ourselves In chambers where our echoes shift and ice settles on shelves Larders where we store our goods The safety of the soul Pinned down snow, on cooling hoods The hearts beneath them roll Turning over, idling Trembling beneath Tilting, slowly sideling Such angles we bequeath Down oblique paths, now shrouded white We mark and map our course A cold discarded, shredded sight With footnotes of remorse When white has fell too fast, too deep, and washed the lines away With paths now undefined, too steep and black ice now in play Underneath the powdered frost, now blurring lines between Channels found and channels lost, … and trails left unseen Still the brave ones trek on out Life, it must persist Winds blow from the east in doubt … the Beast and Emma's tryst A beauty lost in static, flight Bound for sun, sand, beach Racing, beating out the white Forever out of reach Whilst caught up in ice stations still Siberian, such winds They gather fast and fall so shrill as winter stalls, begins With thrift store gifts found cheaper and payment left in kind We sift where drifts drive deeper In the hopes that we might find Something to help, sustain a grip Some traction for our cause Some sustenance for when we slip Acceptance of our flaws With grit, we sway seraphically Hell bent to our track When one way traffic's all you see Such drifts hold few ways back With cars abandoned in the road In sheets, the white still shifts A heart still beating, bruised and bowed, and drapes drawn... lost in drifts |