Wandering Through October’s Woods

In forest gloom, wandering a path

through October’s woods,
subdued now by seasons’ changing --
summer to fall and a hint of winter’s
cold and snow approaching --
my footfalls are steady, and quiet
save for the rustle of dry leaves fallen,
stirred up, a snap of broken twig,
or a bird’s lone cry,
a distant calling, unanswered,
echoing in the bosky woods, the shadows
closing around me, taking me in,
till I stop, my thoughts, wandering and scattered,
drawn down, downward to mud-hardened earth,
halting me, to find below my step, his,
a single cloven print, broad, dug deep,
a moose’s passing here, unseen and heard
in Springtime’s wetness, preserved
and drawing me to now, this moment,
a journey taken through October’s woods,
subdued myself by seasons’ changing,
summer to fall and a hint of winter approaching.