The morning's walk repair
is stone-in-shoe disturbed
at the cool wind glade:

high contrast light
rushed dark leaves
flashed sun.

The rain worn paper notice,
on the silver slatted shutter-down kiosk
commands us to walk the mere of ice,

blind white
blotching pools
slow earth.

But I know it will fail my doubt;
I take the grass and boulder soaring path,
walking up the double-bended valley,

watching down
on faith belief
crash-drown.