Forest Floor

There they are. Dig in
To them, the old route
Of the stage coaches,

Before them, horses,
Before them, footpaths
For local hunters,

Just trails through shadows,
Paths in the forests.
The whole continent

Was laced with sunken
Traces of roving
Feet. Resurrect them,

The old ways to walk
Into the heartland
Occupied thousands

And thousands of years,
And you’ll seem something
New in the world’s mind,

A soft path through shade
And brilliant patches
To where real poems wait.