Lake Runnemede

Lake Runnemede

Snow falls without expectations.
It fell soft last night,
Now the world is hushed.

My breath ghosts ahead of me,
Hands deep in the pockets of my red coat,
Boots write on the blank white page.

The smells of cold and pine draw me forward,
Up the hill into Paradise Park,
Where the trees lean like old men in prayer.

At the ridge, the trail turns,
the world folds with Windsor below,
Shouldered against the river,
The hills beyond full of buds in waiting.

I stop and listen to the silence,
The kind that only comes after snow,
The kind that feels like forgiveness.

The woods are quiet,
But they are not empty.

The snow is heavy,
But it is not forever.

And I am here,
Still walking,
Still breathing,
Still finding my way.

And for once,
That is enough.


-nl
19/100