The icy wind pinched my face as I left the only footprints on the fresh snow of this Friday morning in January.
In it, the dusty powder drifts across the rugged packing snow which made a unique percussive pop under my white Reebok shoes.
A concave braid of footprints broadcasted the path I walked...
...down the sidewalk...
...past the bright red fire hydrant...
...across the street...
...and into the forest.
At its entrance, etched in the snow were more footprints, bicycle tires, jogging gaits, paw prints, side by side, single file, kicked up, packed in, and melded together into a unique kind of footprint itself.
In the forest I saw dried wheat grass, rustling leaves clinging to their branches, an area of barbed branches covering the ground, felled trees stacked into an unnavigable fortress.
In a world whose visuals are so stilled, and sounds so dampened by the snow, my mind began to wander.
I imagine being 2 inches tall, jumping between mounds of crumpled frost.
I imagine the snow falling until the entire forest is buried...
...and being 2 miles tall, leaving Reebok footprints on the Earth.
I imagine being the snow as it gently eases its way to the ground, watching, and trying to understand if I will melt where I land.
On the way back I crossed paths with myself.
A concave braid of footprints responding to the broadcast of the path I walked...
...from the forest...
...across the street...
...past the bright red fire hydrant...
...down the sidewalk...
and home again.