in the woods the snow keeps falling
it cradles the banks and swallows the creeksound
the air is a soft wet cloud
the rocks are slick with snowflakes
the stately green hemlocks and the wet-green ferns
soggy oak leaves up to our ankles
so much insect potential
we walk, ask questions, listen
at the confluence, we pause
look up up up the rock face, flakes catching our chins
hop wet rocks across the creek
tread the half-moon trail above the water
we walk until the energy shifts
we all feel it
