Moments of Transition

Inspired by feeling very cold, I had no idea where this poem was going when it began. Watch out for neighbours, near and far, who need your help.

Moments of Transition

The time of cold, of snow and ice:
Freezing wind grips lungs in vice;
But stars shone out, bright, clear,
Glittering, angelic, do not fear;
Cold comfort to those who toil
In winter snow, on hardened soil;
Shepherds on the cold hill side
Watch their flocks, and they abide,
As fast falls flakes upon the land;
Cold the grip of Grey King’s hand:
The old lane, the branches bare;
Light the candle, now to prayer,
Within the chapel, bare and cold,
And frosty winters seen of old:
Chanting at night, pray for dead,
And give us all our daily bread,
Lest we perish as leaves that fall;
Old lady wrapped in winter shawl,
Seeks warmth from flame and fire;
But only dying embers in the grate:
When morning comes, it is too late;
Moments of transition, passing by,
A final breath, a heartfelt sigh;
Alone, alone, no neighbour here:
No eye to see, no listening ear;
How sad to be alone and die,
As dawn is breaking over sky.