Tracks
Snow has spread a canvas
over the forest floor,
and I see how alive
the woods are:
tracks tell the comings and goings
of furry and feathered things.
The foxes have walked on the ridge,
their trail straight with purpose –
unlike the squirrels’ Brownian motion.
The pheasants have printed arrows;
perhaps
I shall follow
their directions -
who knows to what treasure
they may lead?
December 26, 2017
Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment