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