2/26/08 I. if I step outside for even a few minutes I have to stick my hands in my pockets if I want to stay out longer I give my bootlaces an extra tug and sit for a moment thinking before I can make myself go reading gets old there are no new stews to invent ice that was once a wonder now is nothing but trouble burrowed into me an impatience grows readier to emerge and be something else II. fox tracks first on the clean snow the wind is stumbling and drops a few flakes here and there there is one way light glints off unmarked snow and another glint that comes off running water I remarked to myself standing at the edge of the stream that broke free of its ice and began to move again over its dark bed of gravel between the two downy white banks my footprints are there you can see where I stood and how long