In woods,
The shifting shadows sway
From limb to limb
And fall away.
And rustling in the fallen leaves
What creatures play
That never grieve?

In woods,
The sifting snow alights
On every stick and stem
In sight.
A sugar shaker to endow
Its diamond dust
On pensive brow.

In woods,
I cannot help but steal
Each rubied moment
Round and real.
To pocket them
Impulsively
For riches in a hollowed tree.