Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Might snow this weekend…
Why do we say it’s brisk when it’s cold outside?
Brisk; fast, quick, sharp movements. Lively; with vigor.
Is the cold vigorous? Perhaps it more describes us:
Rushing out of the icy air into warm abodes
Breath like fog and eyes sparkling diamonds
In mines of glowing red;
Or speed shuffling shoes sliding over
Slick puddles frozen into deathtraps
That cannot be avoided, only dealt with
Like the krypton factor of winter!
Brisk; panting at the effort
Of climbing the glass mountain
One step forward, two steps not only backwards
But sideways, upwards and all over the place.
Brisk; the hands that shake at 500 hertz
And placed under jumpers next to warm hearts.
But cold makes us slow, makes us clumsy,
And when ice gives way to snow
The whole world seems to dwindle like a tape
Set on to slow-mo; frame by frame
As the soft and dangerous white
conquers all.
Mabh Savage 