(August 20,1937 / Estonia)

Traces

Each day is filled with tiny traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
And crab holes when the tide is low

Each breath exhaled and new step taken
Leaves markings not to be erased
Small cherished patterns fain forsaken
In nature’s cunning woven lace

The crumbs that fall from modest tables
Are soon retrieved by little ants
A spider’s web the stuff of fables
Embraces woodland’s lushest plants

We make a difference as we wander
Among the throng and rush of day
Our every movement filled with wonder
Touched by a gentle force at play

When pride and prejudice surround us
And things are quite beyond control
Just look at lowly trusting creatures
Their humble ways refresh the soul

No need to faint when your tracks wither
In heat of sun and loss of hope
That pearly snail keeps creeping hither
While deer and crabs still run and grope

Each day we live we leave small traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
Or crab holes when the tide is low.

by Liilia Talts Morrison

Other poems of TALTS MORRISON (683)

Comments (1)

'Their humble ways refresh the soul', they certainly do, Liilia, such beautiful verses!