I walk along a path of frozen leaves.
Wondering only of my mortal self.
I wander absently within the barren beauty of the old, the fallen. I hear the trees: Listen to us!
In silence I walk quickly with icy steps. The first snow and wind against my cold skin. My feet unsure, I catch my balance before I fall. The talking trees scared me. It is early winter and I was not there when they lost golden leaves. Tomorrow I will know their sorrow and make prayer in the emptiness of winter.