The open open snow laden hill
Waiting for the wind to kill
The only remaining tree
The melting memory
The ever-widening space.

The wide valley of virgin snow
Aching as if wanting to know
The coolest deep sorrow
The landing of tomorrow
To the endless useless race.

Deepening furrows lie stark
Whilst the body feelings turn dark
The blackest eye resting
The cold thought nesting
Waiting for its lonely place.

II

Beyond the peace that is loneliness
Is an urgent maddening mess
Where the collected tears fall
The briefest look is small
Darting a print into the snow.

Behind the unblinking eyes
Caverns echo to the surprise
Of finding the lonely tree alive
The hill will always survive
For the wind will never know.

		III
The pitiful well laden tree
Is the thought of wasted time really
The hill will rise slowly
And the snow will melt eventually
And the sky, blue looking cool below.