Why have I come to this winter wonderland? I prefer the summer, not this chill. Yet here I am hiking through this forest in the wet snow. There are no animals scurrying away from me. No birds chirping or squirrels scampering up any trees. Soundless, except for my senseless march through this thicket of low branches and down trees.
I turned into a virgin trail thinking I should I go back? Yet gasping, feet and hands , frozen. I push toward the unknown blinded by the white. When suddenly my journey becomes clear. Spring reveals herself, in Yellow daffodils .