A world obscured
in summer’s snow
blanketing our vision
limiting the senses

The world diminishes
to the smallest radius
sound going liquid
beneath weighted branches

Fog rolls
downward
drifting from the mountaintops
cocooning the trees

And we must step outward
onto the ledge
of our intuition
to guide ourselves

Along the path
we would choose
with clear eyes ~ Caroline A. Slee