Walking in the first snowfall
through a thick familiar wood
listening for winter's call
near where an old house once stood.

A cardinal splashes red nearby
as he flits about among the white.
Before long he'll likely fly
to a cedar tree to spend the night.

Within this world of falling snow
the only sound is snow flakes as they hit
and a desultory single crow.
Somehow the silence seems to fit.

I pause to let knee's ache subside
and inhale a breath of air
here where forest denizens reside.
I'd not want to be nowhere else





©Words of a withering soul