Ephemera

This I know: In the early morning, after a night’s light snow,

a small animal has made a track from the bluestone paving

up to the house, but not quite to the house. I can see how

it paused, where there was a mark made when it nosed

at something smaller than itself, breathing so fiercely afraid,

then vanishing, the way the snow and the track vanish,

except in memory, as the sun varnishes them

with a glaze of thin light and air.

(Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net)