Pathfinder

The clouds went one way.

Black birds went the other.

Why must we bother

To record the days

When all that comes and

Comes undone

Goes forth without

Any aid.

Calendars of other years

Were torched and set a-sailing.

This should be the way

Of all yesterdays.

This could be the way

To the pass.

Fine grass invades the glade.

Black bear smells the air.

 

[from the Watermark series, by Renee Walker]

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