Fading Traces

Pressed into the earth like trilobites
   The spikey pinecones corrugate a trail
Between the lake and woods. A foggy dawn
   Blurs the horizon. Waves play pat-a-cake
Against the shore. A startled doe looks up,
   Recoils, then turns to leap a ragged hedge
   That with gray boulders forms the forest's edge.

When I ran by here yesterday the ground
   Was soft --- so why are there no footprints now
Recording that I passed? I glance behind
   And there my spoor is plain. The next to tread
Here cannot miss it. Will she also ask
   Where her own tracks have gone, and search in vain,
   Like me, in hopes that some faint marks remain?

( ... after early morning jogs on country roads near Wolfeboro, New Hampshire, summer 2002 ... )

TopicPoetry - TopicLife - TopicRunning - TopicPersonalHistory - 2004-04-16

(correlates: JogLogFog2, Roses by Other Names, JudyReWilderness, ...)