people walk
through the dark
breathtaking
breathmaking mornings
of their longest winter
boots on snow
they follow each other
packing old gang trails
tracking underground impressions
leading everywhere and nowhere
their feet speak
in right, left syllables
a hush and crunch
song of slang
trails broken by others
mos-cow, mos-cow
mos-cow
the cadence of trudging
calls the destination
and capital of each step
hunched
hungry and ambling
like grizzlies padding
ancient paths
to deeper winter
I also walk to Moscow
a place I\'ve never been
stepping in the deep snow
breaking a new trail
boots whispering peace, peace