Between Our Steps: The Sound of Winter

The dog and I leave prints bigger than our feet as if some larger version of us walked this land.

COMMUNITY CONTRIBUTION

A misty grey morning. Not a breath of wind. Not a sound from the creatures who live here. It’s December, but the ground is bare of snow. The only ground cover a blanket of rust-coloured leaves. On this day that threatens rain, the birds are hunkered down in the shelter of cedar and spruce. 

Walking down the road, I expect to hear th…