Slowly, Dangerous

By Alison Stone

Thick, gray sky obliterates

the willow, jagged rocks

beside the frozen

lake. In its melted center, miles

from the woods where hunters’ gunshots

shattered branches,

geese dive and swim.

Is one safe day possible?

The geese’s urgent honking

follows me home, where one long worm

pours itself along the walkway

and smaller ones scrawl patterns nearby. I tread

slowly, dangerous in my hiking boots.


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