I walk, in search of silence, somewhere near this place. I pause and stare at beauty absent of human trace. Stopped, I listen, hoping only to hear the snow fall. Maybe the breeze as it gently teases the trees so tall. Then the silence breaks, as a squirrel sounds his alert. I smile, as I trod, in their space, wishing none to hurt. The tracks below belong to the animals living here. There’s proof of rabbit, fox, squirrel, bobcat, and deer. I carve a place in the snow to sit neath an old hemlock tree. I rest, I listen while watching this silent world around me. The angles that branches make, years of running to light. Nearby, the shredded layers of a sapling, an interesting sight. In the hollow of an old oak, I see the cache still not concealed. Distant, I strain to see through the thickness of limbs, a field. Content with the cold falling around, I enjoy the seconds in full. I breathe, and wish to see my dear, the moose, even a bull. Minutes pile up but for once that is fine, for I’m at peace. I pull drifting thoughts back to this tree, wishing it never cease. Leaning on the bark, my eyes close, soon I’m half asleep. Stirred by the inquisitive song of a black-capped chickadee. Clearing a spot, I circle stones and prepare for a blaze. Everything set, I get a flame, and into the fire I gaze. At ease, warm, and alone, in silence, an old pine knot pops. The wind seeks attention, as snow gently falls from the fir tops. My bed of boughs shields the damp cold of the melting snow. Cosy, I write, and think of all places, this is where I would go. Light fades from the afternoon sky, and the cool gets cold. I stoke the fire, and watch as a young deer, ponders bold.
Night falls and I wander a few paces to the hardwoods nearby.
I stop to stare up at the clear beauty of the starlit winter sky.
Camp fortified, warmth lingers long enough, shadows grow.
I wonder what is watching me as I huddle around the glow.
The night is long, just restful enough, ready for a new day.
Improvements to my fortress make me wish I could stay.
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