Too much wind for footprints in the snow. Mine will be erased by the time I head back.
A tattered birchbark flag flies out straight from the tree. An ice heart drips in the stream. Ferns like fish bones breathe above the snow.
The sigh of a car in the distance, they don’t know what they’re missing.
Beautifully and sparingly written Maria. Truly a Sunday morning gift
Thank you so much Sharon.