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.