Memories of childhood

SNOW HUNTERS

Centuries have passed since that long-ago hunt
but the air in winter is just as piercing,
and from the bird's eye we see the flight
frozen freeze frame - returning home.

The space open to our eyes
always unchanged: valley, ponds
and the roofs of houses that ran downhill,
and people on the surface of frozen water;

on a slippery path along a snowy slope
crimson splashes - spots of figures,
tired dogs and a crucified crow,
drawing a circle in the sky above the city ...

Centuries have passed. The twenty-first lasts ...
But will they all return to the hearth? -
drooping backs, drooping faces
and pink reflections on the white snow.

Anna Malyutina