Walking the path i walked yesterday
in my big coat and the dog
leading the way in her same coat
the snow more difficult now
blown for maybe miles pulverized heavy
the joints ground down a little more
right and left an effort of will
against gravity wind years
keep moving firing the furnace
the engine thumping away at the core
the blood hot and streaming
out to the hinterlands
staff in gloved fist
staff in gloved fist
synched with the weak knee
flanked in the half-buried weeds
by those without tracks
a line of succession into bare trees
who make me myself
i'm still here.
