call and response in winter

late afternoon sun

colors the canyon rim

of a deer trail in snow,

their daily way

forward and back,

the way of life

reading the signs

to discern what follows

i find the floret

of fox’s paw stamped

in steady white rows

like

puffs

of

cartoon

smoke

from

the

stacks

of an

ocean

steamer

and walking and looking

i see this: half a mouse,

hind legs and tail,

resting

soft belly up

unmade

unfinished

the rest of her is a mystery again,

travelling a different trail home,

the one that picks up

where the creek

crosses the horizon

now in place of

whiskers and ears

and a tapping heart

there lie two dark almonds

of fox scat

precisely arranged

as if in accordance with the terms

of an ancient agreement, perhaps

a responsive liturgy

that begins:

this much i need,

this much remains…

and mouse in her turn replies:

this much i become,

no need for more.