In the woods,

All is silent but for the twinkling sounds of falling snow

Flakes descending, like crystals 

They are bejeweled with angles that dazzle and delight, so delicate

Each one unique among millions.

And in the woods,

All is quiet but for the sound of my skis sliding across a clean slate of powder

Fresh tracks to follow, fresh tracks to create.

You can almost forget your worries upon waking as the day dawns,

and seeing the glimmering display of nature that makes the world seem new again.