To Conundrum in Late November
I do not feel alone and abandoned even though I find myself in the desolate valley, high on a ridge above the roaring creek, trying to make my way across a snow-filled crevasse before dark; even though the sun has already slipped behind the mountain peak, outlining it in a nimbus of glory. Even though I punch through the ice at every step and sink up to my hips and have to use all three remaining limbs to pull out my leg while staring and yearning towards the rocky promontory that offers its sheltering trees and rocks where I might rest out of the whistling menacing wind for a few hours until dawn or I am about to freeze to death, whichever comes first. Even though I slip down a foot or two or ten each time I take a step going across the snow-filled crevasse while imagining being on a tightrope across the Twin Towers, trying to stay on the "high road" to save precious energy by not going down just to go up again. Even though I at last arrive at the rocky promontory that wil