Alive in Almanor

I heard footsteps.

That small yet distinctive sound of carpet pile
crushed under human weight.

It seemed off,

like a dinner bell at sunrise,

but I easily relegated it to my imagination....

until I heard it again....closer.

And again.

My ears now tuned to the frequency
and my heart beating a path away from the intrusion.

I heard the intake of air, a breath, not mine

and following it

my own gasp

as I wrestled covers and fought the lamp.

I saw no one, yet wide awake

noticed the window

more precisely, the view... 

It was 5:20 AM and the moon was brilliantly large, like the rising sun...

as bright as...seemingly,

and I began to wonder,

who woke me for such splendor?

Whomever.

It was not to be wasted.

I found a coat, size 10

in whose world, I cannot imagine

for it dwarfed me, though the temperature made fashion

nonsensical

And my feet, Converse baring

cold, yet free

hit the pedals of my bike

basket full of cameras

Glorious.

The mist, the lake, the mystery.

Mine.

I saw no one, yet wide awake.

A parting shot

though as all leavings go

a cycle of emotion

around the inevitable funeral
digging the plotted field in preparation for burial
which gave birth to this...most glorious relic

And exhausting myself with it

smitten...

a rusty school girl crush, expended in film,

I took my ardor

higher

to a cratered lake

emerald as any jewel

Hiking beyond limits

up towards high contrast

to the Aspens

instruments of the wind
glittering in the sun against the envy of pine

Even fallen, their beauty

assuaged my weary limbs

forehead to stump

I pulled from it the remaining color

once life

now art

only to have it returned

from the fingers of a child

a color wicked with whimsy

slathered

as should color be

upon the skin of us

having been wakened

and so fully alive.

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