by Bill Keller
We went walking after rain
through earthworms stuck on cement:
strange crooks and curlicues,
an uncanny alphabet.
We were travelers, too,
wondering where the path went,
how lasting the dewy hush
would be, and the muddy scent.
A loosely knotted bow,
tail overlapping head,
was inexplicable
except as a message meant
just for us. Reaching for your
hand felt like life or death.
