My frost creeps through streets,
covering cars and garden plants in white sheets.
Like an abandoned theatre, the echoes of life fall
dead on quiet midnight roads,
and the dance is ceased.
Silence steps in time with the beat of my feet.
I halt beneath a solitary light,
breathe deep the chilled air and watch
as the vapour shifts and curls from my lips.
I smile as I bend my will
to timeless work
with tools that never wear.
My winter is here.