a painted picture
left out before the snow
the wind blows through it
an old sheet of organic plastic
caught on
torn on
hard wire
a post of whiskers greyer than the stone which holds it
loos ends going no where on each side
cattle long ago
bones softened
no memory even earths recalls them now
hard ground
brown ground
no trail to keep you from getting lost
no place really left to get lost
incline
something shadowy even though its sunlight
fingering illuminating
another afternoon
good fortune
among the winter