• The shushing push of snow underfoot, never touched before. Silent woods hide secrets from all, locked away in a vault. Painted leaves crunch under the tree, within the safe guard, away from snow. Filigree of fungus, climbing up a tree. Orange, yellow, red, and brown, they create the mother tree’s crown. Breaking a new path in the snow, off of any trail. The air smells cold, new life is given here. Small pines poke up, despite the sheath that binds all else to the ground. A fallen tree, next to a clearing. The roots they dangle like lace. A hidden space, with earthen floor is concealed within. An unknown clearing, though some must know, for here are the prints of the rabbit, and there the prints of deer. A sparrow twitters its harsh song, accompanied by its friends. The whole family sings a song of friend. My breath puffs an opaque cloud. It shivers in the air, no longer here nor there.
    Far away a child shouts, playing in the snow. My dog she runs, around the wood, coming to my mimic birdcall. A road can be seen from where I perch, atop a rock covered hill. Moss covers the rough skinned rocks, green around the clock. I am the queen, upon my hill, none disturb my peace. A bird whose name I do not know serenades me with its tune. Another joins in with clicking tones, the jester’s heals tap. The sky is gray, but somehow blue as well. The musky sweet scent of old rotten leaves perfumes the air. So here I sit, observing all, upon my rocky chair.