December brings thoughts of snow, even here in Southern California. My bedroom at my parent's house was on the second floor, and a flood lamp hung in the eaves just above the window. On a winter night I would fall asleep watching the snow shoot out of the dark into the glare of the light.
Fresh Snow
last night
an endless veil of snow
streamed past my window
today each boot step
marks my path
into the woods
the old signs are gone
the snow erases
the tangled browns and greens
of pine needles and saplings
blended earth colors of
chipmunk and quail
now new traces
one by one
my trail
and a single set
of rabbit tracks
etched across the glade
Copyright © 2011 Francis Kearns
