The Big Sky
Once upon a Highland
day, snow had fallen
and frozen ever
after a world closed in
of blocked
roads and schools closed.
Mountain
trappings, halfway to the big sky
and he might
reach Jacob’s ladder
if only he
pulled her blanket neck tight,
tucked in
with more of a snarl than a grin.
She’s
sending him away with a snowball,
white flakes
all in tight tourniquets
and each
individual packs clenched ice
to sign the
future, but here, but now,
but a little
way above his head: the big sky.
To fight
alongside her imagined children,
these gay
coloured striplings in red, in bed,
in anywhere
else but here, don’t fear the trek
for stringed
mittens hanging loose from sleeves
adorn snow-white
branches of pine trees,
and hoary the
cracks upon frozen lochs.
Only a
little way down the track
looking back
at her world closed in, falling
all those
flakes, each its own gem within
the
thickening skin, wipes icy nose with icy glove,
must
suffocate below here or here rise above.
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