In dark sharp shadows,
Brown cow munches lazily
As sun disappears.
Bleating and grazing
Small billy goat stops to scratch--
Then back to the food.
It's almost buried
The vibrant green ground cover
Now losing its ground.
The gray clouds draw over;
The sharp shadows disappear,
A new world is born.
At the branches' ends
Little green buds can be seen
Leapfrogging seasons.
They say it may snow;
A gray coldness in the air
Might give birth to white.
Above each other
Two shelf fungi face the road--
A mushroom totem.
A single snow flake
Floating gently past my nose
Is joined by others.
Wind in the forest
Rustling the unseen trees
Does not reach the road.
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