The snowtrail not taken; that is all that matters.



I was out in my britches and snowboots, carousing gaily amongst the fallen flakes, effluvium puffs from footsteps, little spits of snow, like baby breaths, and me acting right silly like, carried back in spirit to my days as a lad, as Walcott would say “would you have your youth back?  Perhaps even some shading of beauty?”, indeed I was alive, but in a state entirely removed from the current, transported back so many odd years(I’ll not admit the actual tally).

Removed from the current spun of life, off the loom, into the days of stupid contentment, and yes a contentment stupid, but a joy that was whole-hearted, transported by the blanket of white, become as young again, to begin anew on this journey.

Yet there is a fork in the road ahead, a crucial choice, a critical juncture.

So, to recap, I had travelled back in time, in order to preserve the future of mankind.  Or just to have a good, old time in the snowpack.  All for you people, I says.  This isn’t for me, you see, because I live with this everyday, but neigh, this is me breaking off a slice for all for all of you, inviting you in to sit and enjoy but a tasting of what I live with everyday.

Nevertheless.  A divergence in the thoroughfare.  Up ahead.  Up yonder in the road.

No matter which path I happen upon, I tell you the decision will be made with a full heart, and the path will be committed to in the entire, with all of my person, as a “whole critter”.


I choose the uncommon way, the way less preferred, and I tell you all this: that is all that matters.




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