I
am the one
who craves frigid silence
beneath
winter stars.
Hiking
on snowshoes across snowfields,
broken
only by the tracks of
deer
and rabbits,
ears
at attention from my crunching on the new-day snow.
In
that winter world
I am the one who communes with the mountains, worships at the frozen pond in the gloaming.
Dwelt uninvited,
until
I laid out my tarp and sleeping bag
among
the stands of cedars.
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