There were footprints in the snow,
some animal, out of necessity –
it must have been necessity, to
drag it out of some warm hole,
some place of comfort; warm fur;
warm breath from a mate, a cub, a kitten –
out of necessity, then, making
a hungry quest for something to take back
to that curled mate, that hungry child.
This was no pampered pet, not out here
in these quiet woods. A well fed cat
sits at the window on a day like this,
or ventures out across the lawn
and then heads home, to basket, fire, food;
and I don’t think a dog would walk
so cleanly through the snow. I’m thinking
fox, and half expecting blood, fur, feathers.
Our quest was just for beauty. That is all.
We came out here to see the light
dance on the snow, the shadows fall –
crisp, blue cut-outs – on the shimmering white.
We found it, and this little story.
Let’s go home.