A Simple Walk
Dec 29 2008


As I descend deeper into the forest
the sun begins to set,
and shadows lengthen
into grotesquely twisted trunks and limbs.
The trees here are dense,
so I tight-rope along the river
risking thin ice that forms at its edge,
and missing the thick wet snow
clutching at my boots
as I high-step through it.

At dusk, the wind relents
leaving an awful stillness,
and I am acutely aware
how my clumsy progress
disturbs
this self-contained place.
It is remarkable,
how a park in the heart of a busy city
can seem so inaccessible,
and how quickly
a person finds himself lost.

I stop,
listening to the river run
under ice and snow,
and in the quickenings
where it stays open.
A simple soaker,
one misstep, and it could all be over
for me —
one foot heavy, frozen
the clinging snow
the cold,
slowly consuming my heat.

If I’m to go by ice
or by fire,
I think I’d prefer freezing
— the long slow sleep,
my body
at rest in the snow until spring.