today I find myself in the north country
the north country of New Hampshire USA
scampering up mt. washington way a long way up
burt lancaster, east berlin, all points north
live freeze and die state motto
thick woods full of fallen timber, entangled branches
tall halloween skeleton trees reaching out, deep as deep snow
reminds me of siberia
reminds me of home
moose making tracks wandering around
frost on their lips, kerouac too
headed for the green mountains of vermont
no doubt white now dressed in winter’s fashion
move silently as the crunchability allows
passing maple trees, I look for pancake trees
no luck, just snow starting to fall
frozen teardrops of joy flowing down
from happily contented silver gray clouds
the old man in the mountain was supposed to meet me
but he’s nowhere to be found, probably in a cabin by a warm fire
soon I seriously need some snowshoes
either on my feet or down my throat
that’s one shot whiskey
one shot peppermint schnapps if you’re keeping score at home
keep me warm and in total joyful bliss
wrapping me up in total enlightenment
whose woods these are, I have no idea
