In a Fall snow, on a bench, in between, in between summer and winter, in between rocky mountain steep and grassy plain asleep,  sitting here in the beauty and the cold, I don’t feel old, in a feeling of contentment, thinking kept in containment, it takes an act of will just to sit and be still, I am taken to a quiet place in this table mesa place, I sit among the frozen, an act I have chosen, I look around and see the snow-covered ground, as above snowflakes fill the sky and in the valley below three bucks in the new snow lie