from where i sat [cliffside]

Unadulterated musings from frozen hands on the side of a rocky cliff in the Wichita Mountains, on February 10th, 2013:

Tell me how you can miss things in your own backyard. Tell me how you give up the chance to see beauties unknown, yet to be charted, added to your repertoire. Why haven't your boots gotten use in so long? (or have they ever?)

Mossy greens and mossy stones. Turquoise and pale blues. Golden hazes permeate, saturate.

Tell me you want to see the world, starting with your own backyard. Will you know your home when someone asks you to tell about it? Have you visited the buffalo? Do you see their tracks? You are welcomed through their door - it's open, go in. The armadillos say "hello".

Chilly, damp nights remind of the important things. Does your coffee have grounds in the bottom? No? You're not doing it right. Brew with intention after those frigid nights. Take your caffeine for serious. Ash in your chili? You're doing it right. The raccoons are inquisitive (compliments to the chef, they give).

Track the prints, be an exploring scientist, finding turtle hands and backbones.

Cold knuckles, with soil-laced nails. You've been digging, scavenging. Your hair won't stay put - it's as wild as you are. Let it free; set it free.

No sound escapes your ear. Amplification. "This is how the animals survive: they can hear everything out here."

You won't freeze - just pile on the layers. Take a good hike to get your blood pumping. Blood is warm, then hot. A little wine will do nicely for this, as well.
Trek back home to what you called comfort. Remember now what life is, and what it means to live. The art of living.

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