I dreamed that it was snowing.
like albino hairy caterpillars,
which dissolved at the touch.
In the distance at the riverside,
stood an old castle with watermill attached.
The air had a feel and smell that was
with its icy tang.
And the lonely moorland stretched
two centuries hence.
We resolved to explore the castle
first thing tomorrow –
with its watermill that didn’t turn and
a roof long-since burned.
But for now, we throw snowballs
before our gloved hands freeze.
Your laughter whizzes between
the flakes like it is an alive thing.