Joshua Michael Stewart

Snowmelt

At the far end of a stubble field, a butterscotch sunrise squeezes through clouds; fog sleeps at the feet of evergreens. I traverse over dirt clods and through mud muck, reaching the woodland edge. Entering the woods through a game trail, the smell of dead vegetation fills my nostrils, and damp bark cloaks my tongue. Twigs snap, and dry leaves crackle under my boots. A disembodied woodpecker knocks for his breakfast. A deep-throated raven croaks from an oak limb overhanging the path.

this lonely world

For years, I’ve fantasized about walking into the woods and never walking out, leaving behind my insidious job and responsibilities; stripping off my ambition and identity—hanging them on branches like discarded clothing. I don’t wish myself harm, just to get on with the inevitable, with the forgottenness, with the “no trace found.” But I think about the worry and hurt I’d cause my parents and my friends, and always return, slugging back to the Corolla I thought I had abandoned.

car after car speeding past

After some time, I step into another clearing. Sheep graze for what they can on a brown hill. I’d swim my fingers through their dew-wet wool if they’d let me. Nobody knows where I am. I didn’t bring my phone, didn’t leave a note. Snow patches melt into the hillside. One sheep lifts its head and looks my way, ears twitching.

roadside crocuses

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About the Author

Joshua Michael Stewart‘s books include Break Every String, The Bastard Children of Dharma Bums, and Love Something. His work has appeared in the Massachusetts Review, Rattle, and Best Small Fiction 2025. His latest book is Welcome Home, Russell Edson, a graphic novel and prose poem hybrid created with illustrators Bret M. Herholz and Aaron J. Krolikowski. https://joshuamichaelstewartauthor.com

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