Nothing man-made

can replace the simple wisdom

in the drying of a watery footprint

on a wooden landing by the lake

during a summer day, in all its glory.

Yet the same landing is man-made,

the watery footprint also.


So where do you draw the line

between natural and man-soiled,

between essential for life, and trivial?



I know I can’t live without

the vanishing of a footprint

during a hot summer day

seeing the sinews of the wood

accentuated by that gradual demise

of the watery remains of a human footprint.



It touches that oh-so-quiet endlessness

inside the swell of my soul

where I want to be

nearer to the sun, in all its glory.