Friday, January 18, 2013

Elegy of Footfalls

It's older here.
Quieter. 
Do you feel as small as I do, as you shoulder your pack.
Your breath floats back to me and mine behind.
Trains, silent in the woods.
Sad things dwell here, last of their kind.
And we will all be the poorer for their passing.
We are far from home and we carry it with us.
Hearth and heart and how great we are
Passing through here together.


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