A fox’s tail stitched crimson dashes across snow’s blank page, punctuating silence with exclamations of hunger. Tracks read like verbs, moving toward a syntax only winter understands.

Reading this folded green hush into my bloodstream.

Empowered by challenges, always seeking new ways to drive positive change.

This caption hums frost threads in molten dusk hush variation 155.

If words could kiss, this would leave bruises.

Reading this hums like rivers dreaming under ice.

I seek simplicity on the far side of complexity.