The strawberry hill is covered with snow
and blueberry bushes tick the ice
And windflowers lean on the drifts below
And the snow is trailed with the feet of mice.
I'm up on the hill, I'm deep in the woods,
I'm walking on wintery crust
And whenever I bump in a furry pine branch
I'm powdered with a snowflake dust.
I stand very still and a crow caw, caws
A rabbit slips under a root
I hold my breath and the snow sifts down
And a chickadee hops on my boot.