I did that, I made those marks.
My feet, my path, it’s my history I left when I was trying to escape.
I do want to be here and lose myself in the fresh new season, but this crisp beauty is marred slightly by my tread.
Did I do that the other day, tread too lightly, stomped too loud?
That’s the past and the footprints I left are just echoes, dents in others emotions.
Remnants of someone who went before you.
I did those, I will do more, just to be in the cold, just to be alone.
Just to make my way, leaving marks, dents in the snow, the others I encountered are embellished by my presence as I leave a mark.
And look at my path – I rose, I climbed. For today, at least, you’ll sense that mystery.
I was first and I see that I made an impression, although the signs will soon pass.
But maybe I should look up, feel the cold, love the new crisp bitter winds.
That chance will pass but I won’t miss it.
I, alone, am here.
But the snow doesn’t care, doesn’t mind me at all.
.Without this snow, you wouldn’t have known I was even here.
Funny – dark winter comes, hibernation and long sleep time, yet that’s when the signs of my course are easiest to see.
There’s irony in that.
Some are turning away from looking from where they just came, it’s cold, they flee to huddle inside.
I am out here, winter is my time.
I run to this spot, need to pass through, see no signs of others and leave my mark.
If you didn’t pay attention you might not see those foot falls, but they’re right there.