just before five…the thicket darkened, or maybe my vision did, and I thought I saw something move. in between seasons, with no one hunting- it could not, should not, likely was not- a hunter. too big anyway. maybe. possibility.
could it be a yeti?
have I been watching too much television? is it a flashback from the Monster of Clay County? or, staring at too many road signs for three hours?
or, could it be a yeti?
time to tie my shoes. time to tuck my pant legs into those beat-up boots. time to focus on the trail…before-
peppering pellets of snow?
and crunchy leaves like corn flakes beneath your boots.
and how fast can you walk without slipping and stumbling over a patch of briers, tearing holes in your britches?
and should I slip into something less comfortable from the bowels of my backpack?
the pellets turned to flakes, the flakes to clumps, the clumps to whiteout. and as I rounded the hill, I saw her- standing softly in the spitting snow, she raised her head to glance my direction….
was it first love? was it those big brown eyes?
she wouldn’t let go of her stare. I found the thicket less embarrassing. was it because I was wearing brown?
she followed me up the path.
inside, I flipped the switch- warmth flooding my chest, forehead, and parts unknown. she stood at the edge, or the side, a bit dumbfounded. her shoes covered in white. the picture of beauty.
but beauty belonged there, deep in a land where men and women only visit…and i belong here, snuggling up to a cup of warm tea…on the other side of the window.