Arctic Coats

We will wear our arctic coats for one last time,

climbing to the top of the world that is all white

and each direction is south.

Winter forever lingers here, all ways lost,

even in a supposed summer

under the never night sky,

when it is near as bright at midnight

as it was at heatless noon.

But, look up you and I, we'll see

the lantern sickle moon swing

on its unchained comet chain.

While, unseen by we, the white fox

stalks the same coloured ridge,

the blank prey hare readied

to bloody the snow and turn

the freezing world red.

We wear our arctic coats and still shiver,

through we do not know the chilling

murder of what comes next.