Stalking Snow Snakes

Dusted landscapes get rounded soft, holding our force of awe aloft within muted visions of white to fold our cold with pumping might. Each step slides forth to set the pace while chasing grace; your blushing face hides a smile once trapped in exile to beguile each mile we compile. We slosh along the spotless path basking in the wrath of this bath clear on the faces digging out devout to sprout a driving route. You giggle, with camera in hand, trudging through layers of quicksand to trace the place where snakes dangle and tangle brave while winds wrangle to lurch the perch within that tree where that sallow snake twists with glee to taunt one brief moment most gaunt. We choose to haunt his fleeting jaunt by snapping photos of his dance, perchance to prance around his lance: a symbol of delicate fate too great to bait or desecrate.