I follow laborious lanes, alleys of yesterday’s
skis, finding intermittently
prints–paws cupping blue,
sharp-petaled as
pressed-flowers–a coyote who preferred my flattened slants
to the deep snow, even sticking to
the loops of my backtracks–

I imagine that same blue
siding his moonlit lope, and despite the warmth
of fellow toil,


A belated blue 55 for Real Toads.

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5 Comments on “Cross-country”

  1. hedgewitch Says:

    ‘siding his moonlit lope’–dextrous and lustrous 55, k.

  2. Susan Says:

    I’d shiver too outside alongside that blue …

  3. brian miller Says:

    interesting second part…we are all wild
    at some point…even being out…i love seeing the signs of life
    but there are some i would rather not meet…

  4. I like that “shiver” at the end. It made feel included. 🙂

    Greetings from London.

  5. M Says:

    oh, this one lopes and lopes, both, k ~

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