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
Solitude.
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
mind salvage 
Eloquent in its simplicity, this is a poem that instantly I can feel in a visceral manner, remembering how many times I too have felt solitude walking in the snow, not only the woods but on quiet dark streets of Rutland with snow falling, 28-30 degrees, and no wind to speak of…or against.
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