Fresh Snow
My breath came out white cloud, mingled and hung in the air
No matter the background drone of the railroad and industrial area,
along the River down below.
The Woods spoke of silence,
broken only by the subtle tapping of Woodpeckers.
No matter the snowshoes left at home,
nor the gaiters still in the closet.
There was no resistance to the invitation,
embracing the setting.
The trail unbroken, in the dozen inches of fresh snow,
obscured now and again by fallen trees
or saplings and branches burdened by the accumulation.
Sky, oh so blue,
Morning air still crisp,
though the sun filtering into the Forest,
casting a diamond glint about the floor.
The experience seemed as though
it could get no better.
That is until the geese flew over.
Diamond Glint on Snow
Peter J Quandt
https://www.facebook.com/treeperspective/