A foreboding evening sky; so dark, so blue, so grey.
The looming great oppression, ending a cold winter’s day.
Flakes starting small, drifting free, landing light.
Then heavier and faster, white swirls in the night.
With wind blowing furious, patterns tease across the road.
A flirting sign of danger, like the last time it snowed.
Swirling streams of gentle snowflakes, rushing forwards, ebbing back.
Like waves across a silent beach; nature’s formulaic attack.
Flakes like dusty sand, impossible to resist.
The wind forcing movement, through an ever-growing mist.
Snug in a metal bubble, I battle to steer straight.
The outside a willing soldier; ominous beauty lying in wait.
I’m at the bottom of an ocean, a dark mass above.
Headlights shining torches, searching for their missing love.
But the water is chasing and teasing, flowing with and then from.
Disappearing and then reforming, the affair long since begun.
A Petri dish is my windscreen, specimens twist, shrink then melt.
Glistening, peaceful and inviting; a distraction so svelte.
Other cars just miniature forms, each encased in a great dome.
Shaken violently and unsettled, hunting, desperate for home.
Their unexpected cages, both confuse and endanger.
Drifting lanes and wandering minds, as they strike a fellow stranger.
But the snow holds no prisoners, it just takes them and abandons.
Continuing the downpour, she is always the last one standing.
Blinded by this natural force, lost, speechless in adoration.
A scene unravelling too fast to think, no one holds an explanation.
Our machinery meets their maker, this beauty and her beast.
A victim of a casual mind, of understanding her the least.
Was it too late or we too rigid? Were they unchanged and unaware?
Did they really deserve this confusion, as cause drifts away on chilled air?
Blood is tainting the white picture, soaking, dying in the calm.
Defenceless in her mystery, man is always unarmed.
The crew they work, they never lose hope, against all time they endeavour.
A tiny exhale; that unseen mist, one breath then gone forever.
Passers clutch their shock and grief; they hold it with their life.
The snow continues; it melts, it forms, could it ever know such strife?
He won’t be coming home tonight, your child, he has been taken.
A perfect storm, a cruel end, and everything is shaken.
The swell is now in desperate eyes, you cling, you cry, you wail.
Nature didn’t intend this harm to come; it was only man who failed.