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Kind of a strange light in the sky, behind me a pre-dawn glow, up high, clouds of snow, and now the glow is on the canyon walls, as I pass Boulder Falls, driving on into a mountain wilderness and now I stand in falling snow, facing into the wind, as flakes swirl and spin, as I let go my mind, I’m remembering a different time, so many years ago, when I could run, really run, like I could run without end, legs feeling bouncy and strong, I swear it felt like the wind, running just to run, for the joy, smiling deep inside, with every stride, smooth and strong, easy to run on mile after mile, breathing light, feeling right, a young man, all my future before me, not much more than a child, running in a wild, then stepping up the pace, running even faster, feeling I could leave the earth and run right into outer space, I miss it so much, it’s a memory I love to touch, yet I need return to where I am now in time, I turn, face first into wind driven flakes, I can’t run anymore, but I can walk, and so I do, undeterred still, by cold or hill or chill, for the joy, the inner smile, another mile, an old man, most of my future behind me, still breathing light, still feeling right, with bone on bone, making my way, for another day, into a wild, all alone, temperature at ten, there is once again, a kind of a strange light in the sky, as the sun shines behind snow clouds, it is time, just for today, to say goodbye, as snow still falls and drive back down, past Boulder Falls.

Lying awake in bed, midnight approaching, thinking too much, thinking about the moon, the Snow Moon, it’s shining tonight, and tomorrow at dawn, I hope to meet it as it sets, with its promise of heavy falling snows, or so I’ve read, I fear I hope in vain, as I just lie in the silence, in the dark, midnight passes, January ends, February begins, and my imagination takes me into snow falling fast and fat on a mountain trail, snowshoes laying tracks, in solitude, deep breaths, feeling flakes, feeling alive, relaxed, and then I’m falling into sleep, to awaken and rise at half past six, to meet the Snow Moon in the dawn, at seven, as it sets, sitting on a bank of cloud, over snowcapped peaks, seemingly hovering, just before it disappears, taking with it my snow hopes and fears, far beyond where I can reach

Gentle flakes flow down all around me, as I sit under pines and firs, it looks and feels like it is lightly snowing, but the sky is blue and the sun is bright, I’m sitting on snow in the shade as this gentle snow falls from the trees, without even a wind, landing softly on my jacket, on my pants, interesting because I’m overlooking a valley I call Always Snows, and to my wonder, here it is snowing under a blue sky, flakes sparkling in the sun, here, in this place, in this moment, the world is gentle, like the flakes, peace falls around me, the world fades away, if only for a moment, I came here hoping to find such a  moment, yet, this time it feels like the moment has found me, it is gentle, and soothes my hurting heart.

The Moon seemed to touch the Earth this morning, but before it did, it touched me, as it hovered just above the Earth’s crust, glowing full and bright, even as behind me the sun was already rising, the moon was setting over the Flatirons, and for a few stunning moments seemed to hover over them, I found myself paused in that moment, and unable to travel on to where I was going, but not lost, found.

Deep and alone in a forest, I lean back against a tree, look up, see the sky, see the tree branches reaching for the light, I stand still, lean back, as long as I like, I rest, I look, I listen, I breathe, we exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide,  an intimacy in the silence, each giving what the other needs, in the sun, breaths of life,  I breathe deep,  a calmness moves through me, a warm gentle shiver through my limbs, and it makes me think of the tree’s limbs and I imagine what it would be like to be this tree I lean against, to be as resident as this tree, living and growing in the exact same spot on the earth where I was birthed, for my entire existence,  never leaving this spot, rooted to the ground, getting sustenance from the soil below and the air above, here day and night my entire life, and in my imagining I realize I am feeling the life in this tree and that the life in this tree is the same life in me, is me, then dawns the truth, that as long as I breathe the breath of life, I am always leaning against a tree. 

Sitting again in a wild, in a small bowl like depression, steady light snow falling, becoming more intense, a thick fir forest in front of me, ponderosa pine and open grass meadows behind me, I came here on a secret path, an abandoned trail, traveled only by wildlife, and myself, following it took me across a dense woodland growing up and down a steep slope, knowing I will not see another person, it’s what I hope for, Falling Snow walking and sitting in falling snow, on a hidden trail, in a forested valley, in nature’s realm, at the eastern edge of the Rockies, simply looking to live, for a while at least, in solitude and silence.

The morning mountain peaks rugged and steep are popping white in the morning sun after a fresh coat of snow, a brightness as fresh as a sunflowers yellow in a summer sun, and so I imagine these mountain peaks glowing in the sun as a snowflower, and like a flower there for a season, until melting, it flows down mountain streams, to my feet, where with care I cast a line, in a gentle valley below the mountains, and the first light of the sun finally kisses the frost-coated earth around me with a touch of welcome warmth, and another day comes awake, seeming to yawn and stretch with me, as it sheds the cold dark of night, after the stars have disappeared, and in the midst of this wilderness wonder, like the snowflower,  I melt and flow with contentment in mountain dreams, and I am happy. 

Snowflakes falling on snow drifts carved by the wind, conifers tall as spires as I sit on a log in a winter wild, all alone, enjoying the beauty,  even the chill, sitting still, things of the world are gone away, worries take their leave, there’s a freedom here that requires no seeking, no believing, no fighting, it just is, it touches me in its  wildness, in its pristine nature, absent of judgement or shame, a freedom from self, a freedom to feel alive, to possess a joy of life, to be at peace with myself. 

From a ridge top at dusk, a deer and a coyote looking down at me, looking up at them. I’m walking in their world, in a wild, I don’t want to interrupt their wanderings, I don’t want to intrude, I’m the outsider, I keep my distance, as they do too. I’m looking for a spot to stop in the forest, where I can sit, in solitude and nature’s silence, where the mood is relaxed. I find it, at the top of steep descent among ponderosa pine trees and needles. I look up to the sky. I see a tassel-eared squirrel in the branches of a tree. I sit down and lie back into the slope. I lounge while observing the patterns of the needles above me, against the fluffy white clouds in an otherwise blue sky. Then the wind comes. I hear it above me, I see it in the movement of the tree branches, I feel a coolness across my body.  I am connected.

In a winter sun, among bluestem grass seedheads, I am sitting on the ground, watching two bull elk lying on the ground watching me, we hold each other’s attention, yet not bothered, relaxed, sharing a winter morning, completely silent, at rest, sharing an open space, sharing life, I feel more alive, feeling this is what it is to live, I’m more in touch with the Earth and all its life, from soil to antler, from land to sky, born to die, breathing out, breathing in the calm, feeling the peace in a wild, I am a nature’s child, birthed from Earth to live and return again to the Earth.