It falls
in lasting lace curtains,
silent sleep to afflict us,
cast against us, white sleet
in our squinting eyes.

It falls,
a dark winter sky disgorging
cover for brooding elders
watching our slow-motion progress
on the plains below,
their breath the ice of forgotten Northern witch-realms,
their touch leaving white fingerprints
on our moods.

It falls
to cover what we cannot see,
the Walker in the Wind,
face cast down against stinging ice drops,
our own thoughts wrapped in his
downcast snowblind eyes
shut tight for the cold,
bare footprints quickly erased by a swirl,
by deliberate wind
in the winter landscape of our cruelty.

It falls.
In the end, the peace of a thousand fallen Princes
mailed chests
rusted shut.
Victory forgotten but for the play
of a young hooded child, tentative red mittens
 in the white depth of it all.

It falls
as a beautiful cleansing,
a virgin white
on the sexless arms of sleeping trees, 
a frozen baptism
if we but become
the Walker, ourselves.

It falls
so we no longer do,
so in a month or two
the sun can rise.

"You want skates?"  I repeated Dog's request back to him, not sure I had heard him right.  I would have cleaned out my ears for effect, but I had gloves on.
Dog, his dark brown miniature Dachshund frame shivering a bit in the cold, blew out cigar smoke as cool as a, well, cat, as we balanced ourselves on the deck.  It was covered in a sheet of ice due to last night's rain which froze as everyone slept.  "Sure do.  I want a pair of skates.  You can see why after finally coming out here and seeing what I have to put up with to just go to the bathroom.  See?  This deck is like a skating rink.  I need skates to traverse from the house to the ramp and stairs."
Shaking my head, "But how would you actually get down the ramp to the yard, then?"
Dog smiled, his teeth reflecting a garish orange glow from the ember at the end of his cigar.  "That would be the fun part.  With skates, I'd just slide down that ramp, land in the snow at the bottom.  You could take videos and post them on the internet."
I laughed. 
"What's so funny?"  Dog seemed a bit put off by my laughter.
"Sorry, I'm not mocking you, but the sight of you sliding down a ramp, cigar clenched in your teeth, on ice skates, with your long ears flying behind you...well, that WOULD be quite the sight! Even better if we found some goggles for you to wear."
Dog blew more cigar smoke out. "So you agree?  You'll get skates for me?"
Placing my cigar in my mouth, I put my hand out.  Dog grinned, the winter light sparkling in his dark eyes, and he spat in hisshook my hand.  "Remember, I need four skates."  We had a deal.

Read more adventures of Dog, the philosopher of life and daring swashbuckler, in Cigars with Dog - Conversations and Tall Tails.