It's proving to be another cold, harsh winter.
At least the old man can say he lived to another winter,
but that seems to be all. There's nothing but grey
everywhere - sky, distant treeline, snow-crusted earth.
All one unending dismal tone. The black fleck of a bird
breaks the monotony, but it's flying away from him and
in its grasp is the old man's tenuous thread to hope.