Heels on the Trail

No longer can he see any

imprints of small feet

that sought frogs

in  mud-hole spaces

the man remembers

as his own steps

retrace those

of a blond blue-eyed

boy of eight-

(himself)

the creek & trout

still awake in the sounds

of a running stream.

A bit of moisture on

the man’s cheek – must be

morning dew he muses

then continues

down the never-ending trail.