Comfort in the Cold Open


Into the world I walk alone
My leathers getting wet
Socks soaking in snow
Sifting through the soil
Wind breathing in my face
Trailing away from home
Trying to get to a mysterious place

Pictures come of the tall ones above
All interlocking, branching, like the veins of blood
Into this little opening
Little clearing of white
Gotta keep walking ahead
Keep walking til day turns to night

Eyes take in the calmness
The world through my eyes
The wonders of the trees
The sky as it cries
Strolling into a short meadow
Powerlines overhead
Electric highway
Hanging high, long stretches of dread

All is quiet here
Except for the annoying snow crunch
But the forest beyond is what has me
Hanging on a hunch
Is there someone watching me
Wondering why I’m here?
Should I turn back now
And never come back from fear?

But no, I’ll be back
To this very same spot
And will walk further ahead
Until I crash into that interesting plot
And what I find might be illegal
Might stop me in my tracks
Sensing danger like the great bald eagle

For this comfort in the cold open
Won’t be cold for long
Seasons will change
Old rituals will roll right along
As I keep on trekking
Across this vast land
Keep on discovering new things
That make me see, hear, and stand


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Free Association

Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . .

. . . home . . . soil . . . rain. 

Use those words in the title of your post.

Author: Macbofisbil

Welcome to "Macbofisbil: An Awesome Mind", a place where you will find all sorts of interesting stories, pictures, and advice on life in general.

3 thoughts on “Comfort in the Cold Open”

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