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Fog closing the distance
Riding on the cracks in the path
In silence except
the cars in the distance,
and the slow wind
on the trees
and the river bed

Deer weave
between the trees like ghosts
a dark shape on the gray,
same as the trunks rising
upward forever, and
the few of their leaves,
startled by my appearance
bounding between one shadow
and another
until the last, when they vanish
feet slipping
on the wet stone and roots

Night falls
the flickering light
of the head lamp
outlining a shaft
in the dark haze
until the white
and red lights of the road