when the snow comes

so do the animals; hare tracks rushing up down and across, busi-ness during the night i’d never dreamed of, crystal filaments growing inside deer hooves like geodes, a determined marten running along the path – bound longer than a human stride, coming back a criss-cross of black squirrel, feet planted in quadrant.

i only saw the badger in mud but i shall probably sit out and wait for him the next clear night and observe how his paws print out his life alone.

and me, my feet, my heavy boots collecting wet snow, dragging further into heavi-ness. they are a song, a blessing; they are the part of me that regularly touches the ground.

i leave prints like an animal for someone else to find.