PUNCHING TRAIL: EPISODE 2.

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 I can no longer hide my feelings nor my beliefs. 

Doing so is of disservice to myself and my Higher Good. 

Only when others ask or wish to discuss, 

I put it all out there as my Truths, 

my right hand over my heart as I speak. 

*

Saturday presented as the day to punch trail again on Coyote hill. 

Although there was another 10 inches of snow on all the entirety of Pencilfox Acres,

it was fairly easy to punch through, 

as the snow was lighter in volume and not as sloggy. 

* You will not see sloggy as a word commonly used today, not in any recent dictionaries, 

yet it is a word engrained in my cells, and this confirms that I am indeed 

an old soul 

and not really of this world.

My searches tell me that sloggy is an obsolete word, 

yet older publications define it as

incredibly sludgy, boggy, and wet. 

(This most recent snow through which I punched is not sloggy.)

When I finally made it over to my Prayer Flag Forest

(wherein my doggie Zig sleeps in the forest)

I could see that heavy snows have tipped the marker I placed on his gravesite. 

As per my usual, I stood there looking around...

such deep heavy snow...

even where Angelo sleeps in the forest, his marker is completely covered-over. 

The ribbons on Zig's marker were hanging slack. 

Standing there, I asked 

would you like me to recite your poem? 

And, just then, the ribbons waved just a bit, 

just enough to let me believe my dog knew I was there 

and he was acknowledging my presence and my words.

So... to oblige him and myself and the hallowed ground upon which I stood, 

I whispered the poem Sleeping in the Forest. 

When I had finished, 

the ribbons once again hung slack. 

*