A Late Winter’s Walk

Glistening pure white crystal drifts. A familiar song of the red bird in the thicket, inviting and melodic. Crunching echoes of footsteps, leaving a memory along the trail. Low sunset glowing in a haze, warming the heart. Joyful and free laughter of children sledding on the side hill. Awakening to the crisp moment, a vision of silence the wind clear and crisp. I am the winter walk and the winter walk is me.

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