A Winter Walk Poem by Gary Bryson

A ribbon of smoke
In the cool crisp air,
Hangs in the valley there.

The sounds of nature
Its silence deep,
Trickles down the frosted creek.

A blanket was cast
Of new fallen snow,
Footprints made each step we go.

We think we remember
The path that we take,
Falling flakes cover the trail we make.

Then on our way home
The evening lights fade,
Memories warm in the cool somber shades.

The warmth of a fire,
At home in a while,
Our winter walk ends in a smile.

12/20/04