Curling stones, cancellations and commuters writ large in Robin's winter wonderland
The white drama of winter –
an actor in a woollen suit
taps the barometer glass,
sighs in a stage whisper
and buttons up his coat.
It is the wind that is perhaps the worst.
The way it pulls rain down villainous passages,
lifting any manner of things in its way.
Ice can be equally cruel,
when not skating, curling stones
or fixing a mojito.
Look! how it whitens the beard of the Arctic explorer
in my father’s National Geographic.
See how it can close the line this side of Halifax,
turn the 13:40 into the 15:10,
sending commuters scurrying into the arms
of a bespectacled clerk,
hard-pressed to find any sort of connection.
Yet, winter will,
in time,
leave the stage and shuffle off into the wings,
put its silvery costume back in the dressing-up box
and lie down to sleep in the wardrobe,
curled-up tight in guest linen
Image - Tracy Wilson