I biked deep today,
through the mist of morning,
I could feel it on my skin,
damp and chilly

Rode with intent, deliberately
designedly
in slow observation, to discover,
the mornings rhythm, my pulse.

Steady focused pedaling
watching muscles
strain, tighten and loosen
assisting me well.

Me, my bike and thoughts
are part of this forest,
interact with this community,
we love one another.

I transcend time,
racing now the trail,
I aim at the heart of puddles,
I smash low branches.

I ride with my childhood,
the boy enjoys coming along,
he loves that I now
know him and entertain him

I sit upon billions of bits of rock
cross legged and hugging
the summit of Indian Pass.

I’m mindful of my breath.
My lungs reach for it
knowing it will be there
made fresh and pure
by the community of trees.

My body is made of cells,
they are made of the molecules
I inhale, that are crowding to get in
to be me.

I sit on an engine,
a miraculous machine.
I feel the vibration of life
and I hear the drumming of creation.

There are no sounds for my ears
these are inner sounds for my soul,
my body, the rock, the trees
we are all given the same.

And this machine I am sitting upon
roars solemnly with life.
it makes the oxygen I breathe
and sends it forth to the world.

The gliding of my skis in the crisp air
makes wonderful swishing,
The sound of one ski extended
then the other,
marveling in my ride
and sensation
of cold air across my cheeks.

I feel the heat inside my body,
churning, urging me on.
My heart drums perfect blood
to its own path,
heat rises, rhythmic glow
extending to every inch of me
cycling back for another ride.

It’s a glorious morning here, where I am
I feel magnificent
in my understanding of it.
I feel the life of the winter forest
all around me,
in every snowflake, every frozen tree.

It’s hard to run away from evil,
that world is always out there.

I’ve been a part of it,
a deadly part of it,
a greedy part of it.

I still reap the benefits,
I drip in its covetous need
I drank in many a slaughter,
in my time.

Watched the blood of our planet,
silently drip,
into the heavens
where all our gods
watched
and taunted us.

I live now
in a pool of adoration,
meaning and purpose.
Found my attention,
discovered its power,
created so many things
that give forth love.
I’ve taken my energy
added it to the reservoir.

I hear the drumming,
all the touches
that ever touched,
that ever made the sound,
that created the rhythm
of war, of peace, of love.

I don’t mind the low clouds,
the mist clinging to the mountain
I make the mist my challenge
my point of entry
where I will be cleansed this morning
where my thoughts will escape me
where I, in my loneliness will exist
within the forest civilization.
I push out
and I urge them to receive me
I want to be overcome and taught

On the trail,
A most beautiful feather.
I looked for the bird
who might be looking for it.
So perfect, quite a lose to lose something
So fine as this feather

I don’t mind the low clouds
they brought me
a poem and the gift of a feather,
for Barbara.

Her room was full of scented oil,
she excepted the gift
told me, she’d been looking for a feather
to use in her treatments.

After the most comforting massage
where stones are heated and released
into the muscle and tissue of my body,
We sat and talked
she told me of her fears,
both of which
were reflected in my poem.

The dark night is pure
where I am
way below zero
so clear
I can look
back in time
further than ever before

The dark night is pure
I’m so alive
like I never was
yet if I were born
on this spot
this night
I would freeze solid in minutes

A long time ago
I fell in love with
winter nights
full moon
snowy earth
majestic mountains
hot breath in vapor escaping me.

To warm their existence
in my glorious lungs
to take the place
of others that
have moved on.