Walking – New Poem (1st Draft)

Walking

I have been walking all night,

but it is not yet time to go home,

holding my shadow, for I know

I’ll only trip over your silence.

 

The forest floor is squashy with damp,

like walking over a child’s wet finger painting.

My pack is lumpy with lunchtime provisions.

I want to bury them, eat berries from the bushes.

 

I want to duck down on all fours, and lap

clear, cold water from the fast, small stream.

 

There is a deer. We watch each other,

her delicate jaw moving in a circular motion.

She turns her white behind on me,

and moves away, unhurried, unafraid,

 

and I walk further, higher. I leave the path.

 

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