And So I Return

I hate the outdoors

The February sleet turns to March mud 

A murky pallet of miserable grays and viscous browns

As I climb

The trees shed the last of their slushy coats 

And the air fills with the scent of thawing wood 

I dig the toe of my boot into the sliding earth 

Battered,

Frost-tipped fingers reaching out wildly as I slip 

And tumbling I go 

Splattered 

Bruised 

Right where I started 

Uphill I start again 

I hate Vermont 

Spring has yet to show its face 

And winter desperately clings to the earth 

Its melting glaciers carve 

The mountainside 

Like claw marks left by some great being 

As it’s dragged away 

A cutting wind 

Runs its icy fingers through my hair 

It pats my stinging cheeks 

As if to assure me 

That it is glad I’ve returned 

Shivering  

Heaving 

I crest the top of the mountain 

And remember just why I came 

 I love the view 

Great pines dot the countryside 

Like thread on a canvas 

The sun’s first rays pierce through ashen clouds 

And gold washes across the valley below 

Painting the scene with playful,

Uncalculated strokes 

All my rage melts like 

Cotton candy on my tongue 

The previous evening’s argument 

Evaporates in the form of frosty breaths 

I collapse on a nearby bench 

And breath it in 

Calm 

Still 

I take my time heading back home