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.
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