Approaching snowstorm, forest
Quiet, into dark depths I walked,
Only sound leaves rustling with
Each step, walking stick on trails
Hard-packed. Silenced moments,
I stopped, listened, no birds on
Wing, except for nearby Chickadee,
Tree crevice searching, barked
Niche out of wind, first flakes of
Falling snow. Twig dancing, he
Chided me for encroaching upon
His red-berried hollies, winding
Trails, I moved on.
Thanks for reading.