Golden snow in the breeze

Tree trunks sprayed by plowings

A road leading to a blank horizon

Hills in the distance bathed in sunlight

The chattering of birds breaks the silent sound of snow

This orange sherbet world

A dream, an escape

The air is clean, crisp

One could crack it like a cracker

The sun is cheese

Beyond a veil of silver-white

There’s no point in being depressed

Bare the soul to the injured

Cut the cord to the shell

To tread upon this mortal coil

And not fall into the crevasse

To finally be one, naked on a rock

By

Aaron Echoes August