Hesitantly, I choose to go into the mountains. Has too much time passed, since I last visited? Will they welcome me, as before? Will my love be evident? Will my love be returned? Will I, still, hear the whispers of the Smokies?
Will I feel the peace, once found there?
The affinity with grey skies, shimmering drops of rain, the chill in the air and solitude of trails on days such as this, still remains.
I approach the trail. With the first step onto a carpet of wet leaves, I am immersed in a different world. A grey world, a world where the only sound is that of the falling rain. A world where the falling rain creates a mist which wraps itself around me, as I move.
I slip the hood from around my face; to sense the presence of the mountain, to feel the healing, to listen to the silence.
With a glance around, I realize that the rain has become ice. I tilt my head to taste winter's first gift. Snowflakes gather on lashes. Sparkling ~ I am gazing through fields of diamonds. I move through veils of white. Thinking of those close to me, who love winter's gifts, as much as I.
I, slowly, walk the trails. Moving from one path to another, I pause. I stand, watching the snowflakes alight, silently. In pausing, I notice layers of snow beginning to collect on leaves, tree limbs and the trail.
My clothes are dampened. First the rain, now snow melted by my warmth have become a crystal flow down my cheek, I understand it is time to go.
I breathe the peace, one last time. Whispering, 'Thank you' for, once again, accepting my love. I turn and walk into the grey.
