Casual trail in the snow,
Cross country skier had been there though.
Deep mountainside woods,
A place I’d been before.
Travelers on skis or foot,
Seeking distance to feel
No door to close,
No window shade.
The more I walk,
The more my worries fade.
The snow is colder here,
Left untouched by the sun,
Not a wrinkle for the wind to smooth.
Deep breaths massage my chest
While passing silent sentences,
My thoughts layer upon my memory.
I will recall them to be laid upon paper,
That my eyes may give an opening for retrieval,
My pen renewed my calm.
Rick Wyman, 3/20/17 6:41 p.m. Spring Equinox