In the woods, in the snow.

The snow has been lying for several days now. The land is quiet, the light soft, the air chilled. Winter. December.

A thaw is predicted. All the snow will probably disappear in the next few days. No more is forecast until after Christmas.

I went for a walk in the woods and fields. All was still. Rabbit and fox tracks laced the fields. A buzzard perched on a high dead tree watching me then slowly flew into the woods. A flock of rooks passed overhead. Trees exposed to the wind and brief touches of sunshine were bare of snow. Down in hollows and ravines they were still white, spectral. Underfoot the snow crunched, hard and crisp. A burn too fast to freeze trickled, the green of water plants bright against the monochrome woods.