An Old Man’s Winter Morning

robert frost

This is a (very!) short story that I wrote after reading “An Old Man’s Winter Night” by one of my favorite poets Robert Frost.

Morning awoke with frost littered upon the grass and silence piercing through the frigid air.

Slow footsteps crunched, a weathered cane trailed a step ahead. The man craned his neck, searching the landscape. It was tousled with wind from the night and misty with fog from the morning. The hills rolled into and over each other, outwards in all directions.

Not a soul was in sight. The February bite stung his face but he carried on walking and walking and walking, what for?  Every morning he would wake in the dark, feed the dying embers of the night before, and put his overcoat on. Waking and walking each step he would wait for the sunrise over the bend of the next hill. The light he searched for was dwindling within, it had grown quiet over the years.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “An Old Man’s Winter Morning

  1. Sad but really well told/realized. I wanted to know why he was walking, even if I suspected his reason, and it was nice the way you brought his reason out. Good short!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s