Except for the strength of it,
I suppose you could call it an impulse,
this sudden sense that I must go now
and walk among trees. Given the gloom
of the day and the late afternoon hour,
this tug surprised me. But here I was,
pulling on my boots, grabbing my gloves,
detecting a sense of purpose, a need to waste
no time. Then I am plowing through
a carpet of oak leaves, transfixed
by the way the light shimmers through
the cold, barely visible mist,
intensifying somehow the textures
of the skins of the trees, of the earth
and the ice-glazed lake, how it amplifies
their winter hues. This was my wordless
lesson, this offering of beauty, a gift of love
to celebrate this new year’s very first day.