even better on the drifts than my snowshoes
late afternoon sun
the flapping of an unknown bird fills the spruce with shadows
doe in snowy woods
digging through the blue shadows in search of food
ancient hemlock grove
I find the patch of moss where I once spent the night
cast-iron porch chairs
the paint may be chipping but what fine shadows
fields already green
between this ridge and the next still brown, still blue
two hepaticas
a strand of silk joins their hairy stems
plastic trail marker
the click beetle’s antennae sweep back and forth
trailing arbutus
an eyeful of ratty leaves when I bend down to sniff
traveling together
the Norfolk-Southern logo and a graffiti tag
a line of balloons
beside the campus elms bobbing drunkenly
wood frog egg-mass
anchored to a projecting twig a gleaming ring
