Snow crunching under
Foot. The first of the season.
Thought it’d never come.

It’s still falling down.
Blanketing the barren ground.
A blanket of white.

Silence surrounds me.
Everything muffled by
The pristine layer.

It’s a fresh new start,
And at the same time it’s death.
It comes every year.

Each flake is unique.
With it’s own shape and design.
Reminiscent of people.

There are tracks in the
Snow. A fawn nibbling on
The only muddy green patch.

She turns and she runs
At the sight of me nearing
I’ve disturbed her peace.

I see something shine.
Walking towards it I come to
The edge of the pond.

The pond is frozen
Over. A slick slab of green ice.
I sit and ponder.

Is winter death, or
Is winter life just… muffled.
The silence answers.