One step into the powder,
The air glints with drifting crystal, the trees silent.
Two steps into the powder, then three, then more.
I stop, still my breathing.
My ears strain to find a sound in the
Presence, the white silence
That shrouds the world.
Frozen trees dusted in white, dark underneath,
Mark my passing not at all.
But these are my tracks in the powder,
Drawn deeper into the empty frozen silence,
The swishing sound of my boots in the powder
Sink into the drifts.