the perfect fit of foot
to footprint
Tag: tracks
I was lost
and didn’t know it. I had a cellphone-shaped hole in my heart.
turkeys in snow
each footprint resembles
a bird in flight
The first people to make flutes from bones:
what must they have believed about music to search for it there?
But fists are lonely
vulnerable things that can never match the strength of linked hands.
In the coming chill
we will all have to become subnivean.
drifted snow
a doe follows the bootprints
as far as she can
