You have to look for the signs, said the Goddess.
Is it the snow on the mountain, I asked?
The tree Gods swayed in the bone-chilling gale,
It’s always there if you look.
I passed a glance at the cloud torn sky,
But the Gods continued to shake,
I followed the path and stumbled on rocks,
Dead leaves crackled in mirth.
It’s not so far, said the old man tree,
Watch your step, said the grass!