Doorway

An Old Woman in Winter

Snow blossomed,
Snow withered and shrank the heart.
One year and an old man at the fire
Nodded upon silence.
I remember a child
And an apple
And many stars outside,
A first cradle-load.
The tree was green.
The tree was tall.
The tree was broken into lights.
There was a winter of no trees,
But soldiers stayed in this house and that.
Even the king, it was said lacked
And moved from town to town.
I know, most winters
The rich children got silver dolls and birds
And a poor child
Clapped hands over a coloured stone.
Plenty of stars and beggars always,
In the year of the soldiers
There was no beggar ,
All held out hands, mute, like bare twigs.
When I was a child
The snow was higher than me
And bell-cry and bird and candle
Brighter than snow.
Life, a cartload of days, at last, thankfully
Draws to winter,
to silence and to darkness.
For new breath, soon,
The snow, the bells, anguish , the birds and the gifts.

George Mackay Brown