Early in the morning something passed by.
It might have been human.
It left a trace on the ice, a what-is-that.
The day wore on, showing its stress.
The air melted long before the snow
Then I came along over the ice,
took a photo of the tracks –a coyote’s,
a man’s, a wind fossil, the mystery.
This parable lies hidden everywhere.
from Visibility: Ten Miles, a Prairie Memoir in Photography and Poetry