Unbridled
As the sky grows stars
over settling snow
the forests move
in eyeshine and tail,
pressing padded feet beneath gazing owl
and curtaining fade of coyote call
claiming the meadow as
lynx, four in all,
lope and pounce
on the tracks you put down
in your unswerving gait,
such a serious line
by the murmuring trees
who now hum and lean
toward lynx
and snowlight
where they unveil
their tracks
without pause or ponder,
shaping one wordless,
enduring tale
in which all things gather
as a tufted
leap,
an emphatic swoop
of unbridled
joy.
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