In Winter

In winter

I trudge across the frozen stubble of the wheat field

Ground hard as iron beneath my thick boots

And frigid air cuts through my pants like shards of glass.

My breath forms in front of me in tiny vaporous puffs

That hang for a moment and are gone.

Across the turquoise sky a skein of geese wings south.

Their honking, like encouragement, reaches my half frozen ears

As I stand contemplating their journey, my journey.

Nearby woods beckon with wind tossed branches.

The snow lies deep and incandescent light makes me squint

As the low lying sun sinks toward the western horizon.

Though I walk I do not know where the path goes

Only that I must follow it

Like the geese follow some unseen path through the air

Southward, homeward, toward the light.