ELK IN MINUS TWENTY
Elk in minus twenty, grazing on the frozen river bed, digging for greenery with their velvety forelegs, they are turned away from me, a world of ice between us, they moving as herd, beyond the brambles and conifers, the horizon is hoof and antler thunder, beneath the static hum of the green borealis, they are completely immersed in snow, there may as well be a season between you, deep powdery ice, that makes everything beyond your touch shy and unreachable, as you move into a winter as bright as heaven, you become deliciously sleepy, the first warmth of hypothermia behind the eyelids and entering the guts, sleep with the landscape that wanders off gaining momentum, to deep within itself, sleep with the winter elk in minus twenty, soon your mind will go with them, the pain in your toes and fingers has stopped, the skin on your face turns white as it dies to a hymn, as stunning as a dawn blizzard, it has all become so easy. |
