Loop

Bitter cold accompanies the trail. I am second in line, following the first who breaks trail. My shorter stride catches every other print so my snowshoes too plunge into fresh flakes. Then no ground and I fall. Use the poles he says. I press to reach firmness and find nothing. He tracks back and pulls me up. Without this assistance I would remain supine in a bed of snow and air. Continue on and there magnetic rock rises but how far ahead is hard to determine. Distant sight of this monolith must satisfy for now. We loop around to our tracks. Already they disappear under blowing snow. Enough is visible for us, but no others, to find home.