On that frosted January day, you and I hiked north along the Mississippi shore on a trail marked well before us.
Footfall tapestries etched in snow wove tales of assiduous commerce of hosts of fur-cloaked cousins:
the playful step-slide gambit of an otter - rabbit paw tracks by the score. A bald eagle soared above singing ripples in quest of a mid-day meal.
The distant staccato cadence of a pileated woodpecker echoed off the limestone bluffs on that January afternoon. Dusk-light washed the western sky in pastel gold and crimson hues.
A coal barge heading south thundered against the floes, scattering ice across the channel, then vanished beyond the bend.
And we like bargemen at their tillers, set our southward course retracing footprints in the snow - back to the world of clocks and enterprise. January, 2011
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