Briars catch me by the sleeve,
walking after early morning snow,
not so much a fall as an appearance,
even less distraction now on the sleeping hill,
happy to be headed for the trees,
my words before me if I speak,
but I just want to listen
for those voices still traveling in space,
the calls of my children running in the field.
for those voices still traveling in space,
the calls of my children running in the field.