Amabile by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Amabile

Page 1

Walking in the Winter Woods

A figure moves through the Saratoga Springs Woods. He walks with the kind of quiet that comes from being alone long enough for the body to match the rhythm of the landscape. The trail beneath his boots is a patchwork of frozen earth and last year’s leaves, each step releasing a soft, papery crackle that disappears into the vast stillness of the forest.

The woods around Saratoga Springs have their own personality; pine and hemlock standing in tall, dark columns, their needles whispering in the faint winter breeze. The air carries that mineral cold scent unique to the region, touched with the faint sweetness of sap and the distant memory of mineral springs. Every breath the person exhales drifts upward in a pale cloud before dissolving into the morning light.

He moves at an unhurried pace, mitts tucked into coat pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the chill. A wool hat; color faded from seasons of use, sits low on his forehead. His gaze shifts constantly; the rough bark of a white pine, the sudden flick of a squirrel’s tail, the way sunlight breaks through the branches in thin, golden shafts that look almost solid.

Occasionally he pauses, not for any dramatic reason, but because something small catches his attention; a cluster of wintergreen