The cold had eaten him,
As its chill had nipped off the frozen black tips of his fingers and toes.
Nature had beaten him,
As the snow he ate wet his lips, hit his stomach, then froze.
His body became his prison,
As he sat stiff with a tree up his spine,
and his boots pushed up powder covered soil,
as he scrambled to survive.
Hikers found him weeks later,
with tears still frozen to his cheeks.
He layed a quarter mile from the highway,
but it was way to far to reach.
Newspapers were published and the man was known by a new name.
The north woods fool they called him.
His corpse made the front page.