“The Winter Road” is the Icelandic term for the galaxy we call “The Miky Way”
Her spread hair is spun platinum,
And her eyes
Are shining pools of blackness.
She waits, looking forward
Like any adventurer,
Smiling faintly.
The platinum filaments
Are part of her steering,
Her eyes are scanners.
You don’t need a figurehead
On FTL starships
But only her smile is purely cosmetic.
She is poised at the mooring,
Silver-smooth, beautiful,
Fully laden,
Ready for her next journey
To unknown destinations
Out, far out, along the Winter Road.
Winter 2000, Swansea.
