Monday, January 11, 2010

Walk in the Cold of Winter

Thirty-two degrees
with the temp softly falling
I step out my door
into the cold of winter dusk.

Snow lay in a thinning blanket
over the hills
the smell of it sharp and fresh.
Dark trees stand,
silent sentinels
against a purple-gray sky.

So cold, it makes my nose hairs shiver.

My legs are restless,
the blood in my veins
for that rapid pulsing rush
of rhythmic movement.

Not merely inclination
but a passionate longing
to dance, to hike, to run,
to hear my loud heart drumming
to feel my breath in ragged gasps

In effort
I find balance
of body and mind
in tandem
they keep me sane.

Or saner
How sane can it be
to walk in temperatures so cold?

Full dark
I round the last bend
early stars
bright and brittle
as the scent of snow

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