The dark pines are melted by the light to become dark with needles. Light snowflakes fall from above like feathers from an unknown bird. I sit here watching the forest. Hearing its solitude speak. The solitude speaks to me silently through universal sign language of dancing tree branches, and flights of cloud over peaks.
Solitude speaks in stillness aloneness and calmness.
Its speech is godlike and timeless, speaking only in the early morning minutes. Then the sun comes up, the world wakes and my solitude is lost until tomorrow morning, when it speaks again. Here I lie on the ground, tried to block but got knocked down. All I see is the dirt, as my head begins to hurt. But then I remember the coach and team, and start to climb back to my feet.