Winter-Silent Woods

Yesterday's snow has covered the
ice on the frozen creek. Tiny animal
prints in to-and-fro patterns
mark the fresh, smooth blanket.
Conifers are once again brightly
limned with glaring white, clinging
to branches and needles sheltering
chickadees and companion nuthatches.

The broad silver-grey bowl of the sky
looks down on a transformed landscape
yet promising additional surprises.
Ice fog envelopes the forest, arrived
on secret, solemn, slippered feet padding
through the atmosphere, soft white
aspect ephemeral; veiled loveliness.

In the rough grey crotch of a fine old
ironwood overlaid with crusted ice and
fresh snow, leavings of a pine-cone
meal informs of spare feeding and
winter scarcity for the small animals
waiting out thin diet's dearth.

The woods are still, and tranquility
reigns, yet intercepted by the brief
overflight of a whistling, searching hawk.