Oct 2016
I find myself in snow
walking on moon dust
pressing in tracks
out in winter
trees looking down on me, what do they want
douglas fir, trembling aspens and more
solitary in a green dark
the cold of night in North Vancouver
just me
walking a white trail
a marked path
leaving foot stones
looking back
the way disappears into nothing
looking ahead
keep going, he told me
walking on moon dust
pressing in tracks
out in winter
trees looking down on me, what do they want
douglas fir, trembling aspens and more
solitary in a green dark
the cold of night in North Vancouver
just me
walking a white trail
a marked path
leaving foot stones
looking back
the way disappears into nothing
looking ahead
keep going, he told me
My uncle was a ski instructor on the mountains of british columbia when people used to ski on wooden skis, he was one of my best friends in life. he passed recently, and his last words to me were, keep going
