Green Roads

The hills are running with deer and there are sunlit roads in the sky. Fresh and wide-eyed is the wind, it swirls like a dervish dancer. Its good that I have this ghost-dog to lick my hand. I send her away to hunt the grass-haunting rabbits. In the end, the old girl had few teeth and bad breath, but now she pants and smiles with glittering stars in her sweet pink mouth. As for me I am alive! I am a footprint so light upon this green earth that my very presence enlivens the turf, and rocks. Old ghost-dog is young again, she barks at the swift flying birds but only I see or hear her. This upland trail might wander away into history soon, fade away like a long forgotten Cherokee path, even tomorrow it might not still be here, or even I not be seen - anywhere.