Animals of night
I have to get away; I need to make sense of this. My mind needs quiet. My lungs need fresh air. My soul needs to connect with something other than people and things that beep. I find myself pulling into one of my favorite places to hike. A Marsh and nature preserve outside of the moving town. I don’t remember the drive and don’t think twice about it. I put the vehicle into park, warm my hands on the vents one last time, take a few deep intentional breaths and open the door. Almost symbolic of the storm inside my mind, the cold winter wind hits my face along with pelts of snow.
The snow hits, sticks, then slides off my face before it has a chance to melt from my body temperature completely. My whole body shudders. I throw my coat on as I trek away from the Jeep, hat, and gloves to follow. Even in the winter storm, the trail is easy to spot. Smooth Snow illuminates the worn path. I move along the route, tucking my hands into the warmest spot I can find. The snow is too deep for the boots I slipped on; I feel ice against the back of my legs. I’ll walk until I can’t feel my feet; I shrug. I suddenly realized the winter storm had stopped. I stop and look around. There is no chance of complete darkness with all of this snow. The rattle of prairie grasses and expired flowers is loud as the wind blows. The soft subtle whisper from freshly fallen snow is here. I stand still with winter and listen to what it is saying. I close my eyes, and flashes of the tiger come back into the front of my thoughts.