Looking at Yesterday

Winter's Trail

When last you walk on winter's trail,

and reach the highest snowy pass,

to stare beyond the veil of ice

at hidden valley's wonder

You'll have some time to turn your head

and read a tale of slips and falls

rime brightened and inked

on frosty Gaia's landscape.

A life thus spied, from airy height

is given form by distance,

joys and regrets, once estranged

now bound like storied pages.

No single footprint writes the verse

that tells the traveler's legend,

each choice, each deed

a word inscribed, to infamy or glory.

I hope that when you reach that place,

you'll smile at what was written,

turn your heel, pick up the pace

and to far mountain hasten.