EAST Early in February, the wind comes straight from Siberia – bearing on its giant spine a fine snow. Easterly is broader than northerly: it may clasp you to death. Easterly is a bear: northerly is known for its lupine tooth. In Latvia and Lithuania, the people rise up with the wind: thirty degrees of frost do not deter them. Outer cold and inner heat meet within the pains of a slow burning; an uncertain birth. In the Middle East: war. On English television, speculation camouflages every insecurity. The sun, the moon, take turns in a vaporous rising. Snow and frost remain, wintering the earth. Copyright © JENNY JOHNSON