Winter Walks

As a teen, I walked harvested fields
land plowed or fallow;
climbed fences, built fires, warmed hands,
walked my own tracks home
in a jacket with the collar turned up
against wind that followed.

It was usually on Sundays after church,
both parents home,
that I sought out the silence of fields,
leaving talk and meals
for the whiteness and solace of winter,
and to be alone.

I loved freezing cold
and the “haves” and “have nots” that go with it:
livestock in barns
and cornstalks shocked up in the fields
like stacks of arms
you see in old Civil War photos.

What a cornfield brings
is the grace to let winter winds blow,
allow drifting snow
to cover old behavior patterns  
while preparing for
life that is certain to wake.