by Jim Farfaglia
Some look like backcountry roads –
like someone woke from a long winter’s nap
and, with their belly, plowed a new trail.
Some look like fine stitching –
like some worried mother’s busywork,
sewing her child a safe way home.
Some look like quotation marks –
like someone came by with a lot to say
and used my yard as their whiteboard.
Some look like cookie-cutter hearts –
like someone filled with love
stopped by with an early valentine.
Some look like miniature canoes –
like someone paddled off on a journey
and everyone else was wise enough to follow.