Red-Coated Elf

Max is now elderly and grey, his
once-robust form well wizened,
his nose a red, frozen protuberance,
eyes watery blue - but his mouth
spreads wide in greeting, as he
praises the icy 'crispness' of the
day. The sun mediates between
the winter-approaching temperature
of frozen degrees and the wild wind.

A pole held tightly in either hand,
he briefly stops in courteous style,
reflecting his Swiss heritage. His
small concession to this time of year
and the relentless, brutal-cold and
wild-borne slaps is an open-necked
red, unlined windbreaker, obviously
incapable of breaking this wind.

Yet all winter long, despite the
accumulated depths of snow pack,
the icy gales that clack bare tree
tops, the freeze-and-thaw that frost
woodland trails to a careful sheen
confounding secure footing, there he
is, an exuberant red-coated elf.