Dry, hot air descends from hawk's wings,
pushing rock and road-base dirt
through an open canyon.
Follow the creek sounds,
ears alert on a silent afternoon.
Vibrations transferred through air, soil and water,
are absorbed as lateral lines move upstream
for cover of sunken brush.
The trail of powdered sugar dust
lifts around footprints,
the telltale sign of recent visits.
A wooden footbridge
made for crossing
better used for sitting
is vacant of traffic
not of memories.
No comments:
Post a Comment