when it is snowing
i have taken to walk the timber road just down the hill from my home  

it rises and switch backs for miles up into a stretch of quiet mountains
in december when the traction of new snow is slow and perfect

i am often the only person on the trail  
fox and deer prints are always visible

one morning i saw bear prints and followed them
large patches of the ground. were clawed away

where the bear had been looking for food
eventually the tracks disappeared down a sharp embankment

how often do we        come into contact with the wilds of life?
how often do we        bump into the excitement of the unrestrained?

it is a humbling thing
to knock upon danger’s door

to feel the uncertainty of it
to feel alive