Tracks carved through crust,
Splayed, cloven, deep.
Moose, maybe this morning?
Pads pressed in petite fives,
Canine cannonballs noses flared,
Whoofing air that is occupied, invisible.
I’m in the rear,
Stumbling snow steps,
Watching the scene unfold.
Then just leftovers, empty space.
Hooves and paws belied by prints.
Suddenly ancient creatues imprinted.
Time in its intestinal folds,
In this space, we huddled together:
Moose, dogs, wooly mammoths