Nature is calling,
your hips swaying.
A light snowfall takes
place in a winter
breeze.
The footprints of a doe
and her fawn grace the
land in fragments.
Broken bits of
grass poke out
from where they
were last seen, in
brown, sticky
patches.
A moose,
a rabbit,
a raccoon—
resting, rejuvenating,
saving their strength.
Birds chirp,
wolves howl.
I close my eyes
and know I’ve
made it.
Did you make it
to Italy, sparrow?
For I am yet to
make...
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