Saturday, 9 May 2015

Mongolian Winter, 2010

 

Slowly it advances ever onward

striding southward

crossing mountains, plains and seas.

Spreading forward

never stopping

relentless, creeping fingers of death

of white and cold

of ice and snow

of mist and fog.

Temur Zud, the cold one approaches

blanketing the sky

shrouding bodies

chilling bones

brittlising sap.

Life snaps away at the gentlest touches

whilst moonlight shimmers on the winter ice.

The lakes, solid to depth

giant mirrors on the barren-dry, unyielding earth

enclosed on all side by mountains white from top to toe

the herds lie dying.

The migration to the cities begins.

 

© Sheila Ash, 2015

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