From the cold stone window high in the tower, the old man watches the snow fall on the village below. The gelid air blows in from the white infinity from beyond and its bitter touch recalls him back to his youth. That vast inferno. Timbers shrieking as the ice is blasted from their heavy grains as steam. The molten peel of glass bubbling below the furnace of flames, bulging from the frames and scorching the stone bricks below it. Bulbous, thick clods of smoke that pour forth from the glowing fractures in the structure and paint the night sky with soot. The stars choked out. Extinguished. The blazing heat on his face. The freezing touch of winter on his neck.
Paddy Dobson
28th November 2021