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.

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