Ice Cycles

It had been years ago.
I was seven years old.
A landscape white with snow.
I was alone and cold.

A promise from mother
To return very soon:
We embraced each other
And she set out at noon.

I sat beneath a tree
Waiting for her return.
Where she had come to be
I very soon would lean.

I set out on my own
As far as I could go.
Mother did not reach home.
She had died in the snow.

For an exit I sought
From winter's icy jaws
As I came to be taught
To know nature's strict laws.

How did this all happen?
I kiss my daughter's head.
The tale begins again
And soon we may be dead.