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

this final cable
of autumn

heavily fettered
in thick leafspit

and bit pieces
of dented crowns

drags along the ground
knocking

about the stalks
and stems

we speed
through life

with all its tiny gifts
all its tiny deaths

we dig
in the dirt

gaze
at the untrimmable dusk

until the lights go out
until they come back on

the moth flew        to the right
and then                 to the left

back and forth
forth and back

ping ponging
between the headlights of my car

fragile little wings of white deep in a winter’s darkness
adding to the confusion

was an unexpected november snow
the moth did not seem to mind

the heavy flakes that fell
some as big as its own body

within
and without

we are so tiny
in our lives

we are so tiny
in our world

the crows took exception to the man
being so high up in the tree

and they called out for some kind of justice to be served
in reply the chainsaw sighed and breathed

as boughs and branches found the ground
leaves already unsettled with the grey of november finally fell free

make sure
to
take the time
to
take the time
to
watch this world that whirls
in
and around you

the drizzle down
of reds

and yellows
the yukimushi

with their quiet proclamations
the crows feathering

through the blue sky
the blunt sleep

of snow
the afternoon light

across the pages
of my book

moments
that stand still

in a world
that absolutely

refuses to