Degradation begins with the first snow.
As if…it and I had, somewhere else to go.
An effect of hallucinogenic thaw grabs a bygone broken bone.
How radiant the fictitious heat?
I hope to never know.
Yet, the struggle from inward calls forth a name.
A yearning for year long travel cannot be tamed.
Scurrying over embankments accosted with previous tread.
To the woods, I am constantly led.
Desperation marks mile one in the sound of Styrofoam steps.
Gawky forsaken rotted pine limbs.
Soon become a threat.
So difficult to gauge all myths lying in surround sound.
Far off crows.
Noises that are eerily familiar to a wilderness I used to know.