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| We had set out boldly, backpacks in hand, no flashlight, trusting in the crunch of aluminum, squeak of cold, the teardrop-shaped remnants we left behind. Our breath in billows, as trees take shape out of a dark horizon. Under them I feel swallowed, lost, and lonely. My ankles ache where I've broken though crust. We've come far, but what am doing out here? Proving I am unafraid of shadows? I shiver, you keep walking. We do not speak, overwhelmed, I suppose, by how black the night can be. We often forget. And yet, through the easy darkness of the woods, through the misshapen canopy of maples, like tiny incandescent bulbs, come stars. -Julia Lewandoski Lyndon Center, VT |
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| Updated: Dec 26 '04 |