Look Up ! The silvery white sky above the snow above the snow touched evergreens.

From the river’s snow covered edge I view this scene of winter’s peak. 

    The silent snow falls onto my face.

    The scurrying noises of the wood’s inhabitants. There is a deep  babbling and chatter

of water rushing through and under an old fallen tree in the nearby brook that enters the

river just above the bend from me.

     The silent snow falls, gathering on my crick pole and guides.

    I watch the flakes melt as they complete their descent onto the slow run and unfrozen pool.

I take in a long deep breath of the cold February air.

    The silent snow falls onto my face.

    A swift footed snowshoe darts into the brush. A few more chills in these bones before Spring

comes. So silent these Winter days can be. 

    The silent snow falls gathering on the frozen edges of the pool.

    The cracking of a frosty limb on that old fallen tree crossing the brook reveals to me some

small critter crossing the log. It is that rabbit I saw, he on the other side of the river now.

    The silent snow falls onto my face. 

    With my crick pole in hand I slowly work my way to a rising trout.

Making a short cast into the falling flakes. A dimple at my offering brings a bend in the rod. 

    The silent snow fall and weighs down the pine branches.

    Look Up !  The silvery white sky above the snow above the snow touched evergreens.

From the river’s snow covered edge I view this scene of Winter’s peak.

    S.F. Britton