The exquisite dream.
I walked up through the damp, dark forest. Snow had fallen recently, and it threatened to fall again. My hands and feet were freezing. Frost clung to the branches in swirling patterns. As I climbed higher, the dense trees began to thin. It became lighter and brighter. This is the view from the top of the hill. That pale blue winter sky. The birds were invited along after, as far as I remember. Sometimes the imagination can play tricks on the memory. Sometimes the memory can play tricks on the imagination.