a poem in my pocket

drop pair of cold titanium frames 

on fresh powder in front of feet;

thrust lightweight  poles within reach,

stuck together upright in deep fluff.

flex body forward in layered clothing,

balance on one leg, insert opposite boot,

clicking two buckle mechanisms till tight;

repeat; grip pole handles with fat mittens.

nippy south wind awakens indoor face,

pricks exposed cheeks below nordic cap,

breath quickly dampening fuzzy scarf.

turn deliberately toward western grove;

reaching forward, outward with poles to

navigate between scruffy garden shrubs,

crampons biting to grip frozen ridges

of tilled earth underneath winter cloak.

tramping unique imprint on landscape,

poles squeak slightly as baskets turn

when piercing frozen drift, snowshoes

crunch if climbing crusty layers of base.

brush past rustling spruce, spill snow;

circumvent unexpected fallen branch to

continue making trail: shush-shush-shush

pause, listen to palpable sound of silence.

_____________________

*written for d’verse “blind poet” prompt:

while i wouldn’t want to snowshoe blindfolded,

i did attempt to write this using other senses