Over the hills and through the woods.......I can't get lost if I follow my own cross-country ski tracks.
An aging snowman guards a solitary soul resting in the prime lake-front cemetery.
The December high-noon sun clears the distant hills but is incapable of creating short shadows.
Even in oblique winter rays, my sun-drenched swing invites a quiet repose...
Can you hear the chime break the stillness?