the path, walked alone . is a journey made better . walking together
all the world would be . covered in a white blanket . if snow had its way
a tree in the woods . enjoys anonymity . alone, it’s exposed
from the wind and snow . a shelter presents itself . without opinion
even a clear path . needs to be taken slowly . in a winter storm
there is no quiet . quite like a winter snowfall . only the wind speaks
heavy with snowfall . the pine bough bends, patiently . under its burden
the twisted branches . go unseen until the snow . makes them obvious
water is required unless it’s in a form that’s inconvenient
a clear winter night . settles in with its danger . felt in each cold breath
uptown jack 