Raven in the snow knows what to do, where to go, grips a diamond in its claw, in its nest shines one more.
World not weird, no riddle, for those with wings, but plain, simple as jigs
scratched on the strings of a fiddle.
Worth to watch white wolf hunt by way of the wind that carries more than scent and sting of ice wherever it blows.
Sad to question the vole, blind to that it's born to be hunted and eaten by winged and four legged foes.
while red fox sniffs the sludge on the edge of the lake, and grey owl swoops down from the trees, glides over the forest floor
winter has locked and hidden the keys.