Cold clarity

The option is yours
Hands in pockets like an urchin
Fingers curled with the cold.
You chose a direction,
Who knows what method
Finger licked or sniffed on the air.
Foot follows footfall,
Twigs broken like echoed promises,
Impressions driven into ice grass blades.
The clouds are building,
Head held high into the heart of a thunderstorm you stride,
An accident of consequence.
Breath sucked as heels jar on frozen ground.
Clarity of thought and reddening skin.
You thought that clarity brough direction,
But that decision was made on a whim.