Out on the ledge, the snow hushes the wild.
This kind of quiet soothes while it scares
Strange mixture of awareness.
A lone northern harrier is the only singer.
She strafes the powder with one beat of her wings
Eyes on everything, including me.
I follow the trail by footprints.
Cougar’s, coyote’s, and smaller critters’.
An occasional imprint veers off
Into the untouched soft carpet
An outlier perhaps, a rebel, a seeker
Leading to a bush, taller pines,
The wind won’t care for you here
Hides, waits to spring, to pounce.
I look over my back into the still.
It’s only the silence stalking me.
I shiver either from fear or cold
Interrupted by the occasional cracking of stray ice.
I will not let the wind trick me
Taking me too close to the ledge
Though I can’t help but peek
Over the edge, down near the warm river
Where I imagine soothing voices, movement
If such things exist.
The ledge fools you with a number of beliefs
Including the truth.