Fawn Pond

I’ll tell you this: I am the only part of winter left.
It beckoned and I followed, past all reason,
followed it like the end of a broken train
through white woods, and I stayed, with simple tools,
set on trying to construct more of a season. It has taken
all of me to do it, and you would not believe the storms.
You would not believe how I sleep. From here anything
would sound like a cry. Everything looks like pieces of God.


Refuge, by Jill Osier


Way back in November of 2021 I walked past a trail off in the woods and told myself someday I'd go back and see where it led. Now I look forward to going back again sometime.