A fleck of dried skin dropped where I\'ve been, a fallen hair
an echo of a thought on breezes caught, carried on waves of air
Blood spots on stone, seeds sown, with the earth I share
marks of my feet, my body heat makes changes of which I\'m not aware
Roots bent that through twisted tendrils sent messages reach
to touch another, a distant brother and its message teach
Ripples made, a cut from my blade, fingerprints left behind
on people I\'ve known flowers and weeds grown, of which I am blind
A glacier leaves marks from where it embarks, scratches of where it has run
as a flake of snow I\'ll melt I know under a new spring sun
Buried, unearthed new words birthed from those they borrow
as marks that I leave in poetry will weave living textile of tomorrow