Dispatches from the wilds of Poetania – Shroud

The clouds roll in
dark, and thick
and cold.
They obscure the entire world,
drown it
disappear it
until my isolation is complete.
Mountains, valleys, houses, forests -
none are spared their chill embrace.
So thick, it comes right to my door
hovering
like a hesitant visitor
or looming disaster.
The world might have ended
a half-hour ago.
And here, in the cool shadows of my own creation
I cannot help but wonder
if I am trapped
in a metaphor
for my own life.