The world is quiet.
The only sound
is the muted crunch
of boots on snow.
The sky is soft.
The clouds are dusky,
and shaded soft purple,
and the moon is the only light.
The moon is pale.
Its silver light
washes over the snow banks
with shadows and silver.
The world is quiet.
A breeze shivers
through the pine needles
and sends flakes of snow swirling in the air.
The world is quiet.
The only sound is my breath going in and out,
and the only sight is my footprint
on the blanket of subtly sparkling white.
The world is quiet
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