Poetry in Motion

A little over a year ago, I had the opportunity to go to Nebraska and spend a little time at the orchard. That place is amazing and always gives me some level of peace. One morning, very early, I walked outside to take a stroll along the trees and just take in some cold Nebraska air. As I walked out the door, I was met with a beautiful “dusting” of new snow. During my short walk I met a wandering raccoon who came near enough to almost touch. When I returned from my myopic adventure, I walked inside and what follows is what came out. Don’t ask me when I turned from Philosophy to Poetry. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.

I awaken to a dusting of fresh snow and stand on the walk, pondering my first step, unretraceable.

The snow unmarked, untrodden like the life of a newborn baby having not made his first step.

How shall I leave my mark on the glistening snow? Which direction shall I take? What mark will I leave? Will someone be able to follow my trail or will wind and time erase the prints so that each may leave their own?

The raccoon ponders not his path, which step or direction. Minding only which way leads to peril, becoming prey, not predator. Each step by instinct, not thought.

And as I ponder which step, I start in any direction, following only my heart, leaving my trail, my path, my mark. And looking back see that wind has already covered my footsteps. Having no clear retrace by which to return, my choices remain open in any direction.

Every step a new path, a new adventure. Walk on. Leave a trail. Make a NEW trail. Walk on.


-Matt Leatherwood-