There is a section that is like a deep bowl. A limestone bluff and the creek form one side...
and if I walk eighty paces or so, a steep tree covered hillside is on the other side.
This is where the wind stopped and the quiet began.
A hole in the ice covered creek, the water still moving.
The remains of a small fern growing out of the bluff that
I was never able to get close to, but the creek now frozen allowed me to see the ferns at close range. This felt like a privilege.
snow, paints images on the bluff.
so quiet it was
but for the
the sound of the Nuthatch.