White sky; white sun. Midwinter glare behind frosted glass.

Breath is the death-announcing fetch. Water, fist-broken. The rune Ice skewers the world.

The hare, with frost rimed fur,
Lies chill in hoar-framed form.

White wool; white milk. Snow on grass. White petals of flowers half-grown to escape the cold. To preserve life.

Frozen sky; frozen sun.

Here the labyrinth must be trod in bare feet. Surrender the splinters in heart and eye. Thaw white to white: absorbing innocence: returning to purity.

To live, white must run green and red, as it was six weeks ago. But that comes later. Blood and bone will shatter the sky to let colour back into the world.

But now is Hail and Need and Ice.

© Alexa Duir 2015

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