Hibernating

The mud on my boots has hardened and the laces are crusty,

the lugs have dulled and the soles worn in.

My pack smells like campfire and dirt.

My pants are patched and stained.

My bottles have seen better days, they smell like chlorine tablets and I like ‘em that way.

I try and concentrate on my work but my gaze turns to the windows and wanders.

The leaves have all fallen from the trees here and the sun hangs low on the horizon.

Soon the skies will turn darker and flakes of snow will begin to fall,

And I’ll yearn for longer days and sundrenched trails.

So for now I’ll close my eyes and let my soul ramble on in my dreams, anxiously waiting

for a swift spring thaw.

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