Poem 9 in the ProCrasstheNation Poevember Poetry Project is brought to you by my pal Julia G. There is something in someone that loves a walk in solitude. A lost art. Well, let’s put one foot in front of the other and see where it leads us.
Trek onward, fellow fugitives of Death!
“Vision Quest” © C.P. Hickey 2017
Walking in winter woodlands.
Efforts made, breaths expelled.
Shallow, short, prickly.
The urgency of cold surprises.
Feeling the crisp crunch boots make,
compacted snow underfoot.
A bully bunch of briar branches retard my progress.
Looking up at the hues of cold.
The late afternoon sun has abandoned the horizon,
leaving darkening off-blue wisps of sky.
Rolling away from warmth.
Thoughts move to indoor treasures:
- hot soup
- woolen socks
- a hibernating bed stacked with duvets that can be pulled up under the chin
- legs unshaven
- hissing radiators
- oversized cups of cocoa and whipped cream
- glowing screens
- disrobing for an defiant and unexpected afternoon delight in the salty sweat of conjoined flesh
The first moments of coldness as a silenced car engine works to change to more temperate digs.
The thunder of a crumpling parka as you squeeze into rigid car seat surfaces,
that a short time ago gave up the fight to retain the patches of warmth that they held.
A lonely hope for comfort.
Nature reminds us of our place in the order of things.
So much taken for granted.
Not having to survive the elements allows me to contemplate whether or not I’m depressed, stressed, or anxious.
Just a brisk hike in the frigid wilderness.
Connecting intermittently with an apathetic world.
Trying to find the Wi-Fi signal of life.
It is locked, and I don’t have the password.
Hoping for heated hearth and hearty heat.
Dreaming of a fire that burns,
but doesn’t consume.