ON A GREAT
BLIZZARD OF ICE
I rode in on a great blizzard of ice, on
five huge horses oblivious to cold. They
stayed straight ahead no matter the
circumstance and, when we stopped,
simply ceased movement and stayed
in place as solidly as if they themselves
were encased in ice. The wagon in which
I rode was made of wood so prehistoric
it seemed in itself to herald an era all
its own : ancient forest floors, hardwood
growth on rolling hillsides of grass. Above
me, the linesman with his crop and riding
gear stayed motionless, realizing the coldness
of Death in the wan heat of human nature.
All alone we tagged together - no destination
ever meant, not mentioned, yet, compatriots
to the heart of each other. Waning moon,
black sky, a hoarfrost worth truly a moment
in Hell, worth truly a moment in Hell.
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