Written for the West End Brass Quintet.
The woods in winter are a place of wonder – the charm of snow dusted pines; the eerie chill of frozen winds. The poet Longfellow wrote best about this fascination in a poem of the same name. This quinet echoes those impressions of a winter walk with a melody that folds over and onto itself like fresh snow falling in the blustering winds. Kaleidoscopic motives pour forth in no particular direction, ending where it began, with a solitary walk through the gentle snowfall.