The cold blew harshly down her back
but she did not shiver once.
Limbs all tight and frozen stiff,
she had not moved in months.
A crow wheeled slow in ashen sky,
its shadow crossed the snow.
It cried above the broken ground
at what stirred far below.
The field lay bare, the trees stood gaunt,
no living in sight,
Just one dark shape against the white
that should not walk by night.
She turned her face towards distant lights
that tremble far away,
As if she knew some half-forgot
and long-abandoned way.
And though the frost had claimed her breath
and stilled her fragile heart,
Something beneath frozen ribs
had bid the earth depart.