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I’m lounging in a patch of pine, on bare needles in the middle of snow where the winds have blown and the sun has melted, the sun is bright on me now and in the midst of all this snow I’m warm, I lean back against a Ponderosa trunk and look up, in this moment I’m in the mountains and they are in me

I look out and snow is falling, feels like time passing, and as I watch it fall I feel myself falling in it, getting older, like snow falls, like time passes, steady, unstoppable, unrelenting, one direction, time is moving, falling, all I can do is watch it fall, flakes of time are falling like the snow, I know I have to let it go, but I find myself holding on to all that has passed on by and who, so many memories, I see them in my mind, I hold them in my heart, but time keeps passing like the snow falling, brings a strangely mixed feeling of gladness and sadness, a melancholy joy, in this man still a boy, sitting still, yet never stopping

From where I sit, on Sugarloaf, I can see Audubon, I can see a track of moose, I can smell the spruce, I can hear a jay’s raucous cry, I can feel a tear in my eye, I can see a fir cone, I can be all alone, I can sit in the snow and be what I know

It is the first snow of the season, on the last day of the year, a flake floats in the air, a flake floats into my hair, I walk in the falling, among the aspen I find delight, and as the ground becomes white, I watch a flake fall on my hand, and I am loving this land, even though I know it cannot be, that it will ever love me

A nest in time, where I can rest, in nature’s sublime, alone, alive, in a time when falling flakes do their part to calm and fill my heart, they fall in this space, at such a leisurely pace, a frozen flurry in no hurry, I lean against a tree, so I can better see, a snowy dream above a mountain stream

To be the only one sitting on a fallen log, on a mountainside, in an evergreen forest of spruce and pine, in the wind, in the solitude, not looking for solutions, or conclusions, a chill in the air, among boulders and lichen in the shade, sun shining on patches of grass and dead wildflower stems, snowcapped peaks in the distance, scuffed with clouds, just here for the pause

I will go to find a wild, go to find my child, go to where the mountains lift me, to where the snowy winds drift me, into the timelessness of nature’s embrace, in the solitude of a wilderness space, feeling that earthly touch, I love so much

Into a wild, on a pine cone covered trail, early, when the colors are still pale, the canyon long, feeling strong, to run, a day begun, to hike, into the trees I so like, greeting a spruce blue, how are you, a swarm of firs, my heart stirs, doing some thing, while doing no thing, a stretch up and over a rock, no talk, stop, stand, blink, no think, focus on what I feel, in the quiet of the real

Looking for Aspen in the mountain air, standing on the edge of Fall, standing on the edge of Aspen, standing on the edge of mountains that next will be full of snow, but we are always at the edge, always in between life and death, always in between past and the future, always there’s something waiting around the next bend, we are always standing or sitting in the moment, yet, aware time is moving, we can’t stay there, still, for this moment, I stand in the Aspen and at the mountains stare

In the stillness, in the Spring, by the snow, that has yet to go, in the quiet sitting, accepting what life is permitting, looking out at valleys rolling green, silent and serene, watching a deer bound up a ridgetop, almost making my heart stop, high peaked mountains in the distance, speak to me with insistence, saying breathe it in, join in, ride the earth’s spin, forget your clock, lean back against a rock, feel the steadiness in the trees, enjoy the air in the breeze