Snowy Deer Calls: A Winter Poem to the Earth

Winter snow is the purest messenger between heaven and earth, always arriving silently. The mountains that were still bare with ochre skin the night before are wrapped in silver snow by morning; the frozen rivers covered with thick snow resemble a sleeping jade dragon; even the usually sturdy pine forest is draped in snow velvet, turning into jade trees and crystal flowers. The moment you open the door, the cold wind mixed with snowflakes rushes at your face, making you hold your breath—this pure white has washed the world so clean, as if you have stepped into a sacred land from a Dunhuang mural.

Walking into the forest through ankle-deep snow, the "crunch" sound is especially clear in the silence, like a private whisper between the snow and the earth. Suddenly, a reddish-brown figure leaps out from the pine forest—it’s a deer. Snow still clings to its antlers, and its four hooves tread lightly on the snow like the wind. Its reddish-brown fur is like a flickering flame in the silver-white world, instantly bringing a lively rhythm to the quiet scene. It seems unafraid of people, pausing to look back with amber eyes reflecting the swirling snow, then turning to leap deeper into the forest, leaving behind a shallow trail of hoofprints like ink spreading on rice paper, becoming the earth’s most vivid poem.

I suddenly recall the line from the Book of Songs, “The deer call softly, feeding on wild reeds.” Perhaps the deer calls of a thousand years ago were in the spring fields, but now the deer in the snowy wilds add a touch of ethereal grace. Ancient people regarded deer as auspicious creatures, saying “Deer live a thousand years, and after five hundred years they turn white.” The deer before me, freely running in the snow, truly looks like a mythical spirit come to life. The wind passes through the pine forest, snowflakes fall softly from the branches, melting into water on my shoulder—cool yet warming my heart. It turns out that in the extreme cold, there is the utmost tenderness.

Sitting on the snow, gazing into the distance, only white and blue remain between heaven and earth, and even thoughts become clear. The deer’s hoofprints wind through the snow like a path leading deep into time. How many cycles of life has this snow-covered land witnessed, and how many untold stories does it hold? Perhaps a thousand years ago, a scholar met a deer on a snowy day like this and wrote a poem that lasted through the ages; perhaps a hundred years ago, a hunter followed hoofprints through the forest, living in harmony with nature. And now, I am just a lucky visitor, sharing a winter dialogue with a deer, a patch of snow, and a gust of wind in this snowy wilderness.

As the sun sets, the afterglow dyes the snow golden red, and smoke rises from distant wooden houses. It’s time to head back, but my heart is full of the warmth of this snowy wild. The most moving scenery is never the deliberately sought-after landmarks, but these unexpected moments—the sound of falling snow, the clear call of the deer, the whisper of wind through the pines.

If you want to add more warmth to this icy journey, consider staying at the Yabuli Warm Residence Villa, where the snowy view outside the window and the warmth inside the house intertwine, turning the northern winter into an unforgettable memory.

Post by Abigail20 King_ | Nov 3, 2025