The day had been co-opted
by human concerns
so it was not until late
that the dog and I
took our walk.
It was that funny time
between late afternoon
and the start of evening.
Other poets might call it
“the gloaming” of the day.
Snow was on the ground
but the air was warm.
The woods were full
of fog and silence.
The world seemed
poised
here on New Year’s eve,
waiting to see what next.
We didn’t hurry home
but stopped on the road,
searching the damp trees.
Listening.
…
…
…
…
We heard not
footsteps
or rustling
of any kind.
Comments