Out of Place

The willow bows low along the water
Its frozen limbs and brazen disposition
Running their course over the frozen lake
As it sweeps away the snow
Revealing the ice underneath blue and emotionless
Around it the world is cast in white
The ground and the plants
The trees and the occasional animal
Covered in blankness as the season seeps into their forms

A single, lone figure rocks back and forth
Its mouth open and its breathing heavy
As it moved along the void towards nothingness
Its frostbitten limbs and haggard, wasted muscles
Paying no attention to the thought of destination

Finding itself next to a nearby pine
It rest itself on the dried pine needles underneath
And closes its eyes
Its body finally giving into the cold and the emptiness
And as the season wears on the world will began to thaw
And will return to the natural order
All except for a bare, white skeleton
Well adapted for the season of colorless dormancy