Walk upon the soil dark,

Soaked in rain of winter’s mark,

Now, in the iron sky be found,

Ice that flies yet makes no sound.

Leaves of gold turn purest white,

Grass, once green, gives up the fight,

Touching now, my deepest bones,

Mounding up, the coldest stones,

Blown against the window panes

Drifting in the city lanes,

Keeping children warm in bed,

No school today, play instead.