Boot Prints in the Snow


Ironic, being warmed by a cold-sore, sun.

There are no contrary limits, to New Hampshire elements.

But than again, this is the place where everything is unmistakable and equally unfair.

Where learning is sustained by touch.

Whereabouts, holier than thou churches lay vacant.

Mass exodus by earth hugging preachers.

Duct taped hikers praying to hemp growing pastors.

I, too, am an advocate for the days when I get out of my own way.

Purposeful chills for my venerable spine.

Outward bound journeys while being snow blind.

Everyday a wanting to board a four-wheeled ship of fools.

A willingness to forego the rules.


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