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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The Trail

My feet land swiftly and excitedly upon the trail.

The feel of uneven ground beneath my veteran hiking boots and the smell of roots and dirt fill my head.

The energy of the woods around me whisper in my ear like faint voices of spirits passed.

Thin streams of sun pour through the canopy and caress my face from time to time.

Something unseen charges through underbrush off in the distance, keeping to the shadows.

A bird calls out letting me and its winged brethren know we’re not alone out here.

And I pause and take in a deep cleansing breath, absorbing the energy of everything around me.

I feel alive here; I miss it every day I am away

And my soul yearns and my heart longs for every step and surprise that awaits me on my next adventure.