I overheard: There is a lot out here, and we're not the top of the food chain...Then I looked at the TV where a guy traced a bear's movements with his rifle. Waiting.

Hmmmm.

Winter is a frigid, dark thing with its eye suspiciously closed, but watchful. As sunrise pokes through a gauzy dawn I see a gift winter left outside, wrapped with black ribbon and foil. Pulling the bow apart I find darkness that leaves residue on my skin.

Sunset creeps over the sky, soaking in the pale yellow and amber afternoon. I just stare at the clouds and jagged, bare tree limbs as the light fades.

The dogs and I have retraced our steps for days through a thick snow that fell one week ago. Hundreds of paw prints are embossed along our path like stamped ice. They rise from surrounding white patches that diminish under winter's short spurts of sunshine.