The
day wanes,
shadows creeping east
towards you slowly,
the soft fingers of Night
cooling the perspiration
on your forehead and forearms,
beads of sweat glistening
from the first true warm day
after the cheery blossoms bloomed...
Anglers dot the riverbank
but only on one side,
no one seen on the far bank
where the railroad tracks run the freight cars
past abandoned factories,
pawn stores and auto shops
with their big garages
and cars parked in front of the doors
after the crews have gone home...
Sitting on a fallen birch,
looking down at the runoff trails
left from the heavy rains
when the water rushed down the hillside
into the quiet glen below me.
Tracks of different animals
course up and down these veins of earth
with the babble of a brook just over the ridge...
Here passed Porcupine,
in his slow, unhurried pace;
Close to blind,
had one once pass before me,
not two feet away,
and he never noticed me,
he just shuffled on his way
His walk is somewhat of a waddle
and how his backside sways
Seen them sleeping in the tall pines
from the ridge tops of sandstone
in the Wisconsin forest
where the mountain bike trails
ring the crumbling cliff sides,
white and brown dust sticking to tires
and sparkling on the gear chain
and you have to coast downhill
with your cliff side pedal up
lest you catch you toe
and lose your balance,
falling the may feet straight down
into the pine valley below,
an army of green umbrellas,
all seeming the same size
with a perfectly round pond
in the center with banks clustered
with dead fall and flotsam...
Look where Raccoon ran,
scratching at the rotten logs
in hopes of finding grubs or beetles
or perhaps a fat worm,
working his way towards the moist warmth
as the sun's rays pierce the last layer
of cold separating Winter from Spring,
the last cool sip of water
slips back into the Earth
to begin the cycle again;
Life,
Death,
Rebirth...
The Deer that passed this way
was favoring his right front leg,
with chipped hoof he placed less weight
and so the impression is shallow,
almost faint, undefined...
You can see where he slipped
once or twice
as he made his climb...
Brother Coyote, last of all,
his prints covering the others.
A steady lope was his pace
as he move to each side of the trail,
searching for the one that breaks from the pack.
His tracks disappear to the right
as does the injured Deer's.
Tomorrow I will follow their trail,
there seek the rest of the tale...
May 12, 2014
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