Winter cold grew around my chest,
Wrapping grey wool and contrast scarf.
Between steps, breaths appeared
heavy in the stillness of disturbed air.
How fingertips curled in pockets.
Longing for another warmth to grip.
Morning light brings only weak
joy on blinding slopes, slipping paths.
Far to the south, the Sun remembers
footsteps in dunes and endless days.
Walls of dirt stood to remain,
Breaking lines of heat with shade.
Tired north grew around my chest,
Wrapping grey wool and contrast scarf,
Clinging to shoulders, carried
through seasons that slowly pass.