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ry. Its gurgling voice is almost stilled as it flows in crooked paths on its endless downhill quest. Fringes of ice line the many rocks, and icicles hang over the water in wavy lines from small branches. The icicles melt away and Vanish on warmer days, only to reappear in the morning, newly reborn every frosty night.
In the yard a ribs-thin doe appears at the edge of the forest, pausing by the old pear tree as she searches for a tidbit. But the pears are long gone, and the doe slowly wanders back into the forest. Overhead, scolding crows caw loudly at her intrusion into their domain.
The sky at night is totally dark save for a faint glow in the valley from the crowded metropolis some 70 miles to the east. On clear cold nights the winter stars blaze down, a million pinpricks of light from billions of miles away. Their brilliance tonight is undiminished by the usual humidity of other seasons. Overhead giant Orion
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