Walking in Winter
Early morning waking, two cats in the bed. Early morning shoveling, wet snow below, bright sun above. Afternoon dilemma: nap or walk? Snow and ice or quilt and cat? Am I 70 years old? Or 70 years strong? Bed beckons but I resist, choosing blue skies, bright sun, snow and slop and ice, and Yak Trax. Last time I tried these ice-biters, I hated them. But I am older now, and need insurance for old bones. Or so I think. In half a block, the first one falls off. Another block before I notice, and retrace my steps to find it. Carrying their failed coils, I continue, down wet streets, through puddled alleys. I'm 70 strong and, dammit, I am gonna walk.