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Enter The Winter-Laden Forest
Natasha Mazerolle /  Fri, 10 Dec 2021

Come away to a realm of silence

Where your breath flies away like a ghostly bird

The trees stand still

The towering observers

The kings of the hill

The ground covered in a white river

Knee-deep and frigid

Enough to make you shiver

A pale blanket that coats every surface

All in preserved posture so rigid

Silence stretches on

For sound is stolen

And ensnared within the dainty dancers

Who twirl in their graceful descent

But in spite, shrill somber birdsong rings out

From no particular origin and to no end,

The notes echo relentlessly throughout