White journey

Hurriedly I walked
in a shawl of fine,
glittering air.
As ivory I stood
-a target, hunted
by the cool kiss
of the wind.

Ice in the trees,
mist in the air,
floating just out
of reach.
The church caped
with fresh snow-
a beacon of light.

I reached the end
of my road, just
before the tyres
struggled to grip
or the snow posed
a threat.