Mother Earth hums
under my boots as softly and slowly
snowflakes flutter into a footprint below
ahead on the whitely dusted Battell Trail
that crutches up the tremoring cosmic mound
of a half-naked Mount Abraham.
Lincoln General Store’s stovetop pot
hot, creamy corn chowder
warmly blankets my belly
tucked into my nourished body
vibrating, attune to the forest’s
crisp frequency of quivering silence,
only cracked by my first footstep
on the frozen ground, before a birdsong
oscillates callings, answers
upon the frigid breezes
buzzing the tops of the icy antennae
of blue-green pine needles
lively, emitting new Life.
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