The
sun shines down on the beaver pond,
warming and
softening the fresh snow, weighting
it
with microscopic droplets of melting crystals.
Coyote
tracks sink into themselves, blurring the
once clear
imprints. Beneath the snow, the
ice
is still hard and supports us as
we
ski where ducks will soon swim.
Above,
the moon threads the eye of a
wooden needle. It's a perfect day.
