White soft snow falling
on the grey hard road.
No time to settle as it does
like a soothing blanket
over the gentle sleeping
green giants that slumber
rising up above the hedgerows.

The earth and clay know
no rush, not for them
to impatiently beep, honk
or tailgate those roots
that are venturing ever deeper.

Happy to let this pure shroud
be thrown over this wintery rigor mortis.
The sacred sheet offering
redemption to what lies beneath
now hidden from unseeing eyes.

While those in mobile metal coffins
rush, here, there and everywhere.
Frantic to make sure that they
have fully lived before the softening
ground welcomes them home.

(Taken from ‘Breaking‘)