Deep In Winter

Within the renewed splendour of a 
woodland landscape generously sifted 
deep in the down of lighter-than-feathery
snow, we trudge along trails barely to
be detected, kicking up and plowing
through its densely unobliging passage.
Like running at snails pace through a
sandy beach, panted an exhausted man
attempting to keep pace with his two
rapturous dogs. His youth and vigour 
have found their demoralized match in
this frozen landscape of conifers sculpted
of snow and ice, a frozen vista of white
magnificence, overlaid with ephemeral
veils of fine silvery-white skeins as a
sharp wind blasts the heaped and humped
spires and boughs of their groaning burdens.
We clump our way to slow-motion ascents,
the dry snow underfoot cascading into
micro avalanches returning us to the
slope's base to try again. The cold that
seeps its deadly malice into the layers
we have swaddled ourselves within
retreats on the laboured ascent, returns
with a debilitating frigidity on the
wind-blasted heights as we take the full
measure of deep winter's squatting presence.