Deep into the winter season the absence of the sun begins to diminish and lessen. It's now March and the days are growing longer and the snowpack deep in the woods still measures thirty-three inches.
Secluded and surround in beautifully still and enchanted silence, I build a warming fire and without hesitation I sit and pen a few lines.
I write, "Imagine the silence," reflecting on and recalling the hike in, through the prettiest part of the forest. I thirst and yearn for this absolute harmony.
