Thursday, January 26, 2012

Day 4 Poem

When on an icy trail
My feet slip on everything
Nothing short of spikes will grip
And even with those, one will trip
Only trails have ice it seems
In the woods, the leaves litter the ground
They won't hide ice, but they could
Leaves are our friends
Leaving the trail reveals wonders
Droppings, scat, poo, whatever you call them
Anything can tell a story

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