Brumous dawn over the plain southeast of Vicenza, Veneto, Italy

           Over Misty Plains


             Whoever was this tiny man

             who used to run against the wind,

             through the fog,

             in the rain,

             on snow-covered paths,

             owards the sun—

             away from his own shadow?


             Nobody knows the truth.

             Because nobody keeps clear memories,

             each intent on their little deeds.


             And the ground keeps no footprints

             of him who ran this humble scope

             for decades far and near,

             adding miles to miles

             enough to round the world.


             The wind alone will always bear his mark—

             some hardly audible swish adrift

             over its continuous subdued moan.


             The abandoned shadow

             roaming forever

             over misty plains.



               First published in Avocet (USA)