Winter with the Oldest Woman: Poem by Benn

Standing alone
In fields of lost snow
Where mine are the only footsteps
The world feels vast and open
Infinity descends all around me
And I breath the mist
Awakening the fire of peace
That is only given birth by the need of hushed cold
Alone in that winter, purified by the Cailleach
Everything makes perfect sense
And I know my place

When clouds bend low to the ground
And stalks of broken grass refuse to stand
Still bowed down to the Oldest Woman
Even after she has passed
They were broken willingly by a resigning awe

In the midst of winter
In the midst of white, grey, and faded gold
You could swear you hear the distant music
That makes the silence even deeper

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