a January day

on an unfamiliar trail
of brown single track

rocks and uneven ground

brittle leaves and sticks of
dying wood scattered like
corpses on the forest battlefield

different sizes of memory
changing degrees of anticipation
two heart beats and a foot fall forward

it was necessary to walk carefully

all i saw
was an old outhouse
with a damaged
plastic
unpainted
toilet lid
missing a hinge on the left side

&

an even older picnic table
with a top surface of broken

promises
unpainted
with two attached benches
missing people
who might have been slumped nearby.

it was a January day without
a deep chill
while the sun hung low over the
Eastern White Pines.

i passed the short term camp
and found a narrow clear cold
spring
to cross over.

looking beyond the slope,

i saw hikers climbing a nearby hill
backpacks
with their food
threatening to push them over

one paused to wave, holding his
hand aloft for a long moment,
sure to restart but not in a hurry

there was no wind
no unnatural sound
nothing out of place

and a raptor circling somewhere must have known.

i peed by a skinny tree, far from the outhouse,

but the tree was unmoved
the outhouse yet unpainted.