A Remorseless Winter

A frostbitten morning heralds a winter coming.
The grass is blanketed by the grave’s chill,
where ice and snow meet,
answering a conquest of endless white.
A damp mist from a late dawn battle lingers over the fields,
unyielding and slowly swirling.
The land is covered with a silent blight,
a miasma raining down from within a frozen core.
Silent and unheeding, like an army marching from death’s door.
Lingering and terrible, the shivering tundra quietly marches on.