Amidst an eternal Oregon spring,
I pray for rain to erase the tracks.

Now, as the sun erodes the cloudy veneer,
a belated Oregon summer reveals itself.

And I can't help but see the footprints.
And I can't help but imagine where they lead.
And I can't help but realize that I'm still moderately broken.

But I'm on the mend.

27d.

eric

Sunday 05 June 2011 at 5:32 pm