Curling wisps of breath strain against the air, shivering in the chill.
While all around the trees hold their breath; solid and alert and still.
The grass is brittle and cracks, sharp against my boot.
The earth is breathing softly, sleeping and digging in its roots.
A hushed slumber fills the air, a lazy bird wings patiently on.
The humming stillness that pervades is like the hush before the dawn.
Wind whispers through the branches, the trees respectfully bow their heads.
Mounds of earth shake their grassy hair, and turn over in their earthy beds.
“Awaken us not!” the earth seems to say. “It’s far too cold out there!”
So I tiptoe on amidst the trees, and touch the bark with care.
A shudder runs through the bare trees, their skin chafes my palm.
The frantic patter of creatures in the spring has turned to chilling calm.
Slumber on forest, stand sentinel in your dreams..
Turn over those golden leaves, and wake up in the spring.