Drifts

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