Henrik Cotran

Nosedive

Watching the forest fill with snow,
I hope the north wind will not blow
it all down and erase the delicate latticework.
Hearing the snow hiss against my body,
I wonder, behind these conifers who may lurk?
Boughs fly past to the left and to the right,
through the flying flakes I focus my sight
on the next bend in the undergrowth.
Down below the ledges a birch wood unfolds.
I must find a route through the rocks yet,
perhaps I am being too bold.
Snow blinds my descent of one path.
I would stay, but for the cold.
The softened woods are dark and deep,
the trail ahead perilously steep.
The sounds of silence fill my ears,
saw-dust snow settling light upon
sentinel hemlock and blue spruce.
I pause to ease my quickened pulse,
then flash on heedless of fears, my spirit loose.




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