Fall and a sprinkling of snow.
Jogging along a logging track
through the darkening timber
of lodge-pole pine and Sitka,
balancing on the frozen ridges
of churned mud ruts,
fleeing a teenage angst
and desiring aloneness,
I came upon a clearing.
By a pile of sawn logs, ageing
under the heavy light of snow-cloud
I stopped to listen to the silence,
to feel the stillness,
to breathe the freedom.
Suddenly, out from the camouflage
of the woodpile, like an apparition,
a lynx appeared, still as a sphinx,
tufted ears alert.
We observed each other for an eon
as something passed between us
something other than fear
some affinity with our shared wilderness.
We turned away in unison.
She, to slink back into the forest,
me, hair bristling down my neck and spine,
to run for home.
Diana Moen Pritchard
(This poem was published by Smith Doorstop Books on 1st October 2019 – Running poems titled ‘The Result of What you See Today’)