As we wander upon the soft newly fallen snow
We glimpse tracks of deer and partridge
And the pear tree has only a few fruit left at the very top
-
The wind whistles insistently - gently stroking my chilled cheeks
His moustache is lazily grasping at the flakes floating by
The few whitened strands poking out of his black muzzle
--
The bushes left their leaves to warm the soil
Several slender branches poke through
Rocking against my legs, rubbing against his frosty sides
---
The evergreens splay their hands bearing mounds of fluffly flakes
White snow, green needles, bluish sky, black dog, red cheeks
What a wonderful walk the forest offers today
----
Under the canopies of sleeping sentinels
About the Creator
Whimsical Wanderer
Narrative threads are everywhere, weaving through realms and stories. Words are vital vibrations, connecting us to deeper truths. I joyfully dance with them, co-creating tapestries of meaning that resonate beyond the page.
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Comments (1)
lol how vivid this is. Excellent writing.