I followed the meandering trail, my snowshoe tracks huge and destructive next to the delicate line made by a single small rodent. The crimped line stretched across the whole back hill of the pasture, embossing the otherwise smooth snow with the simplicity and beauty of an eloquent lyric.
The trail continued on, but I was stopped by another story in the snow.
It was a short story that began with the mouse or mole digging a small hole out of the snow. Then it traveled a short distance on top of the snow, etching its squiggly mark. It ended in a shallower hole than it began with, creating a long soft hill as its body burrowed just under the surface of the snow.
The snow gradually smoothed out leaving me to wonder, which way the small rodent went next.
My goodness, Maria! That first paragraph is a poem! The language is just beautiful! Thank you for the lovely word picture.
Thank you Molly, you made me smile this morning.