The tree was dead.
Covered in a white blanket of snow,
misty fog suffocating all that wants to live,
decaying shrubs surrounding,
The dead tree stands.
Alone.

The unmoving, crisp air,
makes all seem supernatural.
Off in the distance a lone wolf howls,
sending chills down the spine-
only adding to this eerie place.
The wing moans and wet snow begins to fall,
biting at my cheeks along the way.
The wolf howls,
only causing more to groan along with their leader.

I turn to leave this frozen wast land,
but stop.
Taking one last look back at the haunted tundra.

I sigh.
Silently whisper a goodbye to The dead tree.
I trudge away
the only sound
the crunching of snow under my boots.
Leaving the silence.
The wolf.

The tree.



The dead tree.