choosing to take this walk
through featureless woods

smelling the crisp
freeze your hair
February air

fresh snow a foot deep
no tracks to follow
making fresh ones

going slow
along buried paths
instinct guiding

reaching a ringed meadow
covered in crystal laced night

shooting stars raced
from one tree to another
my eyes racing to catch up
my mind chasing along

when northerly winds lashed
covering my carefully laid tracks
as if I was never there at all

there I stood naked
trembling from
that simple truth