Friday, January 25, 2013

The wisdom of children

Along the trail today
we found     
a pile of bones picked clean
of fur and muscle.
Nudging the skull
from its frozen bed
I turned to the small child
watching me,
his eyes holding wonder.

Was it death he saw
or the way I touched 
the snow-dusted bones?

Those young eyes.
How they told me
to leave the remnants 
there.




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