Mist is all around
Touching tree tops and mountains.
In grayness birds sing.

The woods are silent;
Not a breeze stirs the branches.
Crow caws far away.

The mist is lifting;
Ahead the road is sunny.
Then it's gray again.

There's snow down the glen;
The thick bare trees keep the shade.
Soon that, too, will pass.

Sun splashes the woods;
Brown leaves shimmer and glisten.
Sharp tree shadows fall.

Green ferns are peeking;
They hang over the stream bed
Thirsty for water.