I’m flying up north for the winter
they go their way and I go mine
traveling over a checkerboard or something
that looks like a grandmother’s old quilts
stretched over the earth
of farmland going into hibernation for winter
I feel the chill and the thrill
of having the place practically alone to myself
I never could stand crowds
being alone in the clouds what a thrill
death all around me
life laying dormant underneath the snow
lakes starting to freeze
a lot of brown about
spindly sticks with dislocated limbs
gets dark at 4:30 now for me
maybe up to the U.P. land
or that little town in wisconsin I like to visit
skidding on the ice-snow in my hair
embracing the loneliness of the land
stop for some bread and a warm place to sleep
every once in a while
I got antifreeze in my veins
a long day out in the cold and wind puts you right to sleep
tomorrow’s another day
I’ll stay true to my compass
maybe I’ll head out to montana
climb myself a mountain, meet a grizzly bear
find a cave where I can just be
me, the cave, the bear, and montana
