Satisfaction

The mountains in winter, with snow coming down, I think of as my friend, but on a wilderness trek I know they could also be my end.  I keep that in mind as I begin once again, starting from high plains grass, walking through a grove of cottonwood, to climb, rising with the land, through groves of pine and aspen and snow-laden boughs of fir, into rock and boulder as my heart finds it’s pace and its place, all alone in the cold, turning to look back at the tracks I leave in the snow.  I pause, slow my breathing, standing very still, feeling every muscle, fiber  and bone, taking it all in, getting my fill of mountain pulses, flakes flowing down, as wind blows and swirls, I find myself somewhere between earth and sky, between life and death, in a dance, in a kind of romance, no need to speak, the silence says it all, and then I move on, with intention, with care, rising ever higher with the land, walking on a winding path, following as far as my heart leads, flakes in my eyes, walking on a winding path, looking, my ears listening, until finally I stop, sit, and in the solitude soak in the wonder, grace and power that is a winter wild. I sit in silence, in peace,  in warmth, recording in words inspirations that come unbidden, yet, welcome into my heart and mind. Then, when I begin to feel chilled my stay is complete, I feel a pull to start back down, and I turn towards home with a feeling of satisfaction.