Written by Norbert Kovacs
The snow takes to form in covering the woodland ground this afternoon. It clings to leaves, twigs, and bushes, showing them in finer outline than they were bare. The clutter of scattered stone and logs disappears under a white blanket of rises and hollows. As I watch, new snow covers the first fallen. The little rises become long hills; hollows fill and round. The contours never stay the same while the snow descends. Quick flakes weave a curtain before the landscape. It is as hard to look through as for the snow not to thicken on the ground. Around me, a hush consumes the woods. No animal stirs from its lair; no birds sing. I listen, trying to imagine the end that the quiet scene will meet.
Text © Norbert Kovacs
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