shadow

Walking the Prairie

Wooliebear caterpillars, Striped in winter's rich furs, Hurry their many small feet Slowly across the path. I had forgotten The pleasure of walking For miles, arms swinging, Feet striking an easy rhythm, Meeting and leaving the ground As though each sprung step Might be the last Leap into cloud.

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.