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  • a haiku:

    cold feet (but not that!)
    mountain hike, freezing river
    bold feet (it's like that)

    I have come to these mountains to see what I'm made of. There is a bear warning at the head of the trail. I make noises to alert any of them that I am close by. I sing. The same song, several times. I breathe. I talk nonsense loudly which fills with me with a certain kind of joy (and I imagine that bears can somehow understand English; they're sitting in their yard hearing everything I say, exchanging confused looks). The view is incredible. What am I doing living in Michigan, I wonder aloud. I head back down the trail, making less noise. I doubt bears are nearby but just incase I yelp every now and then, and my voice echoes miles below the valley. My shoes are muddy. I remove them, wash them in the tiny, cold river, and dip my feet in the mountain's fresh stream. The frigidness stings in a way that makes me grateful to be alive. At least until the bears come.
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