Snow

Snow comes like a secret.
It whispers to the birds
that the berries are covered;
their soft, red hearts dripping ice
It tells the fox
the hare is not fleet-footed.

Blue stars shine.
The moon's glow is an afterthought.
The shadows are many and deep;
padded feet creep through the briers.

It is winter.
The snow is deep.
Foxes are clever.