Snow and window

spittle of frozen elders
dribbles down the cold
cheeks of the window
the glass remembers its
burning liquid youth
and fondly reminisces
while it sags in the
weathered sashes

the bones creak in
the walls and ceiling
as the building sighs
in age and cold and pain
northern nightmares
pierce the skin as
harpoons of Inuit
whalers dive deep
through ice shelves

the invisible beasts
leap from limb to limb
in the trees overhead
and rush the ones
that line the lane that
leads to the fields and
the fading horizon