Stone 12a, twenty-first day

Documentation

The snow remembers. In the night
a rabbit came this way. Its long
back feet left vees to say that it
was here. And over there, a line
of dots commemorates a squirrel,
or else perhaps the local cat.

I leave no tracks. Instead I pick
up shovelfuls of snow and toss
them left or right before my feet
arrive. A tropic creature, wrapped
in shirt and sweatshirt, coat, gloves, hat,
pretending to be warm, erased,
unwritten, from this snowy history.

(And yes, I found myself composing this one while outside shoveling today’s inch of crusted-over wet snow and hoping the freezing rain doesn’t start up again. The animal tracks looped across our yard.)

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