Winter Woods

The sun at length rises through the distant woods, as if with the faint clashing, swinging sound of cymbals, melting the air with his beams, and with such rapid steps the morning travels, that already his rays are gilding the distant western mountains. Meanwhile we step hastily through the powdery snow, warmed by an inward heat, enjoying an Indian summer still, in the increased glow of thought and feeling. ~ Thoreau (A Winter Walk)