A walk through the woods reveal a solitude that I yearn, like how snow craves a safe spot to rest on needles of bowing pine trees. His howling gusts transform into silence by a frozen lake, where a doe scouts for breaching grass with her fawn. And just for a moment, as the sun rises and illuminates hardened beads of water clinging to spiderwebs, I can close my eyes and breath in--not tobacco and *****--but moistened earth and rotting wood. You are free, the woods whisper.