beneath the tread of winter,
brittle bones makes,
and fragile, feathered and furred things
huddle high and burrow deep.
Wings through ice splinters flutter,
nail and claw delve among sleeping roots,
some to find the spring,
walking on red planets,
shaping ships to sail among the stars,
let our fellows
curl in cold doorways,
frozen foetal skeletons,
carried to the dead icefields
on winter’s indifferent breath.