Monday, August 30, 2010

Prose Poem - Tracking

I think with some work this could be a good one:


This morning
I open the door
Step out
And push through
The new-fallen snow.
It’s already tracked
By deer, and rabbit and squirrel.
I follow their tracks
Through the yard,
Across the garden
And into the field.

Tracks are clues,
Tell-tale signs;
And what do my tracks
Where have I been
And what have I done?
Can you tell?

From the right perspective,
And with enough distance,
We can see
Our tracks form patterns,
Both intricate and haphazard.
They meet and mingle
With the tracks of others,
And those points
Of intersection
Are the most alarming
And lovely
Of all.

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