Unbridled

 

As the sky grows stars 

over settling snow

the forests move 

in eyeshine and tail, 

pressing padded feet beneath gazing owl

and curtaining fade of coyote call

claiming the meadow as

lynx, four in all,

lope and pounce

 

on the tracks you put down 

in your unswerving gait,

such a serious line

by the murmuring trees

who now hum and lean 

toward lynx

and snowlight

 

where they unveil

their tracks 

without pause or ponder,

shaping one wordless,

enduring tale 

in which all things gather

as a tufted

leap, 

an emphatic swoop

of unbridled 

joy.