My face is clouded by the shameless wind.
My head is bowed by the heavy sky.
I make my crooked way unseen and unheard.
My legs are bowed. My feet are splayed.
My bones are brittle. My teeth are all worn.
My breath escapes me through a hole in the world.
My thoughts like quicksilver slip out of my grasp.
My body, bent and distorted by time's embrace,
Stumbles through what's left of my life.
My ears are numb. My vision's blurred.
My passion's spent. My soul inured.
And yet I continue I still go on
For no other reason but to hear winter's song.
The cold clean air that bites at my cheeks
The stark still shadows of a December's Eve.
These plain simple things become so precious and real
Each breath each moment that might be repealed
Each step is my eternity.
Each day my infancy.