Walking over green fields,
frost covered with frozen morning dew.
Crunching old leaves,
foot prints on a new day.
The fresh snap of cold air,
fills my tingling chest.
Icicle eyes seeing all,
clarity far into the distance.
Cold ears hearing natures silence,
not a thing stirs.
The sleeping beauty of a stream,
locked in flow and time.
Naked trees that wait like statues,
whispering to each other with creaks and sighs.
No thunder from the waterfall,
its downward journey paused.
Feeling like the only life,
in a world without change.
Waiting for the snow,
and the fun it brings.

(c) 99 January 1900 99:99,Fnagaton.