Memory of the Cold

Safe in bed, safe in bed I am! 

In my cubicle, in hunger 

And darkness, and stillness,

Remembering a winter scene. 

Trees in a half-circle held court, 

I don’t know where we were going, 

So long ago it was, so long. 

But our legs ached and were cold. 

Our snowshoe tracks had joined tracks, 

With some others, and the blue shadows, 

Were dancing up a hill; a crisp 

And quiet air beneath buried pines.