The woods (with credit and gratitude to Robert Frost)

Snow crunches under my feet
with each step toward the forest path
and above me, fir branches bow,
weighted down with sparkling drifts:
the woods are lovely, dark and deep.

The moon shines down upon me
and stars twinkle in the sky above.
In the distance, an owl hoots and
then takes flight in a flutter
of powerful wings:
the woods are lovely, dark and deep.

Snowflakes twirl downward,
fluffy and magical,
settling on me, the trees, the ground and
blanketing the world in glistening white:
the woods are lovely, dark and deep.

Oh to stay here
always, forever, eternally
to live like a forest creature
alone and sustained
in the bountiful sacredness
in the hush of these woods:
so lovely, dark and deep.

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