mid-winter hike

mid-winter hike

1

home is where I'm too whole and each

step in any direction

is the losing of something

I replace the pieces

with something new—

light on the crusted snow

leg bone of a deer

gnawed twice,

by coyote and myself

trying to get at the marrow

of things

I want to return satiated

full of something I hadn't missed

before, so spent I'm unable

to sleep for dreaming

2

pine cones grow warm

on the side of this hill

where sun has drawn back

the snow

the dry grass, the needles

glow with an idea of what

spring is—

memory and prophecy

the cones open

their wooden petals

and seeds are always hidden

near the center waiting

for fire

only wind

and the winter birds' chatter

can speak so patiently

of the slow hand of sun opening up

everything

a bit at a time

unhurried

3

I'm not alone out here,

someone dogs me

at every turn

I fumble to recall

the name

as I stumble home

carrying words

so as not to jostle them

into a trite retelling

who is it? I spin

who's there?

out this far, it's impossible

to be alone