on awareness

sharp chirps and whistles ring out from the cheery lark shepherding snowy sheep of rock far below the beladen branches. whirls of glitter sting my cheeks into a rosiness as the mischevious wind plays in the drifts. flinging clumps of heavendust back skyward in a vain motion, my boots slip through a fresh layer of snow, among the first to grace its powder. shaken from the branches above me in the powdered sugar forest, bits of icy debris pepper my head and the cushioned ground. blue shadows form as the discarded pieces find some respite below, among the drops of blood spilt from the mistletoe lounging in the treetops. a strange irony that as the vines strangle the tree, they are the ones to shed crimson life. the air is clean, tingling as it tightens around my nostrils, constricts my throat, pounds my heart against the bone basket of my chest. silence rings with an enjoyable pain deep into my ears. silence with an incredible noise - cracking branches, falling snow, toiling, flashing river, serenading birds, quaking leaves releasing their jewels, heat from the sun dripping, easing solids into icy tears. silent noise that deafens when actually listened to. noticed. little yet monumental things that easily slip by amidst concrete and careers. small vitalities for my soul that must not be forgotten when society creeps in and nature is pulled from me. or as we strip nature away, tree by tree. sometimes it is the silence that demands an audience, and the things of seeming inconsequence we should protect most fiercely.