here a pair of large tracks
splay-footed, rough gait,
some big man lurching back from
bars –
and there, small shoes,
angled straight,
good form
spaced for a run,
maybe just cold for the hell of it –
and in this spot are many tracks,
sure-footed, limping,
converging like a deer-path
people coming, people going,
crunching snow and
oblivious
leading right to
where they’re bedded down –
like fawns that have never known a hunt.
Town Tracking
