High Country

Crisp air draws tears of cold
frozen icicles on the eyelashes
breath hangs in clouds
trying to draw in oxygen
hiding in this high altitude.
Whisper of snowshoes in new snow.
Yellow and red leaves still clinging to the Aspens.
Coyote passes twenty feet away.
Wary of one another
for a moment we freeze in our foot steps
weighing our options
sensing whether danger is afoot
on this cold Autumn morning
under a dull halo of sun.
With a hush over the valley,
we part in peace
leaving only our transient footprints
in the snow.