I trudge across the winter prairie.
Like northern tundra it lay frozen.
Bits of grass snap under my tread.
I feel for their fate but my path is chosen.
Ice forms windows of frosted glass.
It covers depressions filled with melted snow.
The tracks I make like time will pass.
Ice breaks under foot exposing the mud below.
One step at a time with quiet determination,
I slowly make my way toward my goal.
Never wandering off the path full of passion.
Better to finish before the final toll.
I stare into the wind and it bites into my eyes.
The end of my quest, but still I keep going.
I'm not sure what I've finished, but I realize,
It's not for the end but the showing.