The peaceful howls of night complement the dazzling starlit sky
Crackling of the burning pine fumigates the cool air
Cold bite of the rising sun, fog lifting from the trampled grass,
As color shimmers on the mirror ponds, the crickets no longer dance
Smoke at constant stream , calling now for dead shades of green
Winter hangs by the frosty hills only to vanish like its quick reveal
Wind whispers and it sways to the rhythm of trees,
sending out natural odors that please
Bugling erupts from the timber a song that is pleasant,
welcoming those that dream earth had a heaven
As the glow brings warmth brightness takes the shadows home,
Trails and paths of old come to a place where beavers roam