He Remembers his Future in Song

He walked through the snow all day
He didn't mind the walking
Or the cold
But the moss was peeking out
From the dripping shelves of snow
Leaning over the rocks
Falling from trees like plaster casts
Graying with wet
A false melt which meant wet feet
To freeze again in the evening

"So this place"
He thought
"Is as far as I will get
Which is fine,
Since I don't know where I'm going"
He sat down there
To see what this place held for him
And as he sat
He began to think up a tune

He found in himself
The memory of shelter
Of looking out from within walls
At the wailing winter without
Each home he once knew
Lent a low drone of belonging
Which he hummed
Until a small home grew under his hands

He found in himself
The memory of warmth
Of smoke rising out the vent
High above cooking pots and late night coals
Each fire he'd once tended
Crackled an old, wild rhythm
Which he whistled
Until the wood lay stacked and the smoke spun

He found in himself
The memory of food
Of fish and preserves and green simples
Canned, dried, smoked, or fresh
Each meal that had once been prepared for him
Blended together their harmonies
Which he chanted
Until scents filled the home and stores filled his cellar

And then he found in himself
The memory of company
Of voices murmuring and eyes meeting
Filling space, silence, and loneliness
Each face he once knew
Called up the verses of their stories
Which he sang
Until he heard notes outside that were not his own

"So this place"
He thought
Opening the door to see who was singing
"Is as far as I got
Which is fine,
Since I didn't know where I was going"