The forest is silent, and winter has painted the woods in earthen hues. Bare black loam is spottily strewn with beige to brown leaves -- dried to a curl and crunch that's almost crumbling. If any animals are moving, it's only at the eyes. There're no skittering feet, no frantic digging, no chirped warnings, and no explosive attempts to flee.
Then, at the base of a downed log, there's a lively scene of vibrant green moss and tender, burnished-orange fungi caps.
winter forest --
all seems dead or dormant,
but one tender scene