when the snow came

And when the snow came , it was a thousand dibbling fingers flickering into the car’s headlights, rushing towards them, blinding, layering onto the road, whitening the night, all hurry, and silence; and then slowness and anxiety as the car, possessed by snow, slithered and slipped on corners and dips; and then at the journey’s end, snow tipping nose, eyes, ears pinched; cuffs cold as manacles; and pure silence made deeper by the sweet squeaking crunch of their footsteps.

And in the morning a curious sunless brightness. A new world suddenly made where anything can happen: the strangeness of magic, of startled blackbirds carrying warning; of seduction and secrets and poor Mr Tumnus.

And, in another time, animal skinned hunters threading the wood like mist; a cave dark in the belly of the hill, of smoke and fire, and a horse, a bull, a deer, growing from the artists hand, glowing on the rock…