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Description

The soft white peddles begin to fall and cover the barren world around me with a
thin white film as the dry scattered leaves in the parking lot crunch beneath my feet was I
walk.  The icy air rushes threw my body as the wind suddenly picks up, swirling the snow in
a torrent around me, forcing me to pull my soft black jacket closer around me.

  The floating ice crystals kicked up in my face blurs my vision and sting my
nostrils.  I step threw the opening in the fence, and look over my shoulder one last time.
Listening over the whistle of the air that seems to have muted the world, all that can be
heard now is the gentle hush of the trees and the gasping whisper of the wind as is rolls over
the ground, tumbling in small pale feathery clouds of snow.

  I begin to walk down the dirt path, now covered by a white carpet, leading me
in, calling me in, with softly chanting voices, into the woods.  The frozen grasp of the winter
wind grasps me again, and I shiver as if death himself had his long bonny fingers wrapped
around my bare neck.

  As I continue down the path I occasionally catch a stray flack of bland snow on
my tongue.  I take in a breath of crisp cold air, its dampness fill my lungs.  The twists and
turns get lost in my mind as it drifts like the ever present wandering snow.

  Finally I stop, my breath escape in translucent burst from between my lips. My
hand cupped I run them along the cracked bark of the large elm as if looking for something
hidden in the darkness of the moon light night.  The rough lines criss-cross under my fingers
and tangle each other like a maze.  Luna above gazes down with pale loving yellow light
bathing me and the slumbering trees in holy light.  The sweet smells of summer and fall have
faded away.  All that is left is the faint smell of the damp, frozen ground and the taste that
lingers in the air of decaying leaves.

The curled leaves still clinging to their bowing homes whisper to me in hushed
crackling voices.  I lower myself and climb under a bush smelling of soggy pine needles and
a few discarded cigarette butts.  I cling to the tree circling its base, finally dropping down into
a dark crevice made by two large roots breaking the ground.  I curl up pulling leaves over
me.  I sigh as a cloud of smoky breath escape my mouth again.
    I’m home....

Description

The soft white peddles begin to fall and cover the barren world around me with a
thin white film as the dry scattered leaves in the parking lot crunch beneath my feet was I
walk.  The icy air rushes threw my body as the wind suddenly picks up, swirling the snow in
a torrent around me, forcing me to pull my soft black jacket closer around me.

  The floating ice crystals kicked up in my face blurs my vision and sting my
nostrils.  I step threw the opening in the fence, and look over my shoulder one last time.
Listening over the whistle of the air that seems to have muted the world, all that can be
heard now is the gentle hush of the trees and the gasping whisper of the wind as is rolls over
the ground, tumbling in small pale feathery clouds of snow.

  I begin to walk down the dirt path, now covered by a white carpet, leading me
in, calling me in, with softly chanting voices, into the woods.  The frozen grasp of the winter
wind grasps me again, and I shiver as if death himself had his long bonny fingers wrapped
around my bare neck.

  As I continue down the path I occasionally catch a stray flack of bland snow on
my tongue.  I take in a breath of crisp cold air, its dampness fill my lungs.  The twists and
turns get lost in my mind as it drifts like the ever present wandering snow.

  Finally I stop, my breath escape in translucent burst from between my lips. My
hand cupped I run them along the cracked bark of the large elm as if looking for something
hidden in the darkness of the moon light night.  The rough lines criss-cross under my fingers
and tangle each other like a maze.  Luna above gazes down with pale loving yellow light
bathing me and the slumbering trees in holy light.  The sweet smells of summer and fall have
faded away.  All that is left is the faint smell of the damp, frozen ground and the taste that
lingers in the air of decaying leaves.

The curled leaves still clinging to their bowing homes whisper to me in hushed
crackling voices.  I lower myself and climb under a bush smelling of soggy pine needles and
a few discarded cigarette butts.  I cling to the tree circling its base, finally dropping down into
a dark crevice made by two large roots breaking the ground.  I curl up pulling leaves over
me.  I sigh as a cloud of smoky breath escape my mouth again.
    I’m home....