The damp smell of musk engulfs my smoky clouds of breath as they wisp away,
underscoring the dewy moisture held in by the dense canopy.
My footsteps like a muffled heartbeat;
the frigid needles of winter’s cold reminding my bare arms winter is not gone yet.
The sun’s warm rays compete with winter’s frosty grasp,
but the evergreens are on winter’s team today,
protecting the cool ground from warmth like a shield protecting a soldier’s heart.

Winter may have conquered here, in the dimly lit forest, on this frosty battlefield,
but spring always has a trick up her sleeve:
the place where the forest cannot aid winter in his quest for eternal gloom.

Abruptly, the trees cease to grow,
as if barricaded by an invisible prison.
The forest is unable to continue its advance,
unable to encroach upon the sea of rippling grass.

Columns of light pour into the clearing,
bridging the gap between Earth and heaven,
casting an incandescent glow on the field of low-lying grass,
the blades dancing in the breeze, mocking the dark forest.

I step into the clearing, sunlight illuminating half of my body,
the other half still engulfed by the penumbras of the dim winter’s abyss.
Ripping free of winter’s icy clutch
I allow the sun to drench my cool skin,
washing away winter’s fingerprints.