The Backdoor

It was a foggy frosty morning when I took this picture. It reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago.

I walked out the backdoor of my life
into desolate bleak grey snow 
blending into a steel grey sky —
with no beginning, with no end.

No shadows defined my place
in this universe of horizonless space —
nothing moved as all were petrified  
like a garden of lifeless stone.

I wandered away into emptiness — 
an unforgiving frigid desert
lost to visual perspective —
searching for a lost memory.

In a far distance that did not exist
I heard a coyote scream her hunger.