Snow Passing

There's an entrance to these woods I call my own

that no passer-by has ever been shown

where leaves exceed and flow over the trail.

Under these white December skies

as shadows form above my eyes

I find myself wandering the dreamless snow

though I know my steps will lead me back

to where I was before.

I'd much rather be lost in snow

and never see another soul

where the lamp lights cross over pastured fields

and no sullen eye wakes from midnight drear.

Beyond the trees far off from here

an endless field of blanketed white

where I find no word but silence still

I find my clarity in the snow

where seldom travelers ever go.

by Joseph Ostapiuk