Padding through the fresh white,
that has now settled, incubating all
beneath in an apparent soft purity.

It almost feels a crime to leave
ragged tracks, broken and scraggy
across a landscape that is dressed

as one ready for her wedding day.
The smoothness of her contours
and softness reminds of a newborn,

whose soft canvas is yet to be
written on, or even trampled.
But we are here too, and our footprint

no less natural than the fluttering flakes.
What perhaps separates us, choice
of where our own feet might fall, and
how lightly we may choose to walk.

(Taken from ‘Breaking‘)