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May 2017

It’s my last day with the old giants
in MORNING, I hike the lost trails
sniffing the aroma of the bark
that cinnamon of the forest.

Under tepees of wood
in a membrane of shadows,
I stalk the earth’s mammal traces,
its elusive tracks. I sit on a fallen log
where spiders macramé moss
sloping to my knees
unaware of invisibles within,
grubbing in their tunnels.

A lizard taps my foot,
responding, I muse to its touch.
My thoughts are like Indian visions
and when daylight mushrooms into night
an owl hoot comes from the cedars.

I still sit with a lizard on my shoe
Huddled with the ancients of the woods.

© 2017 Mario Vitale
Naugatuck Valley College
Wolcott, CT

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