The Tracks I Leave

contrails

contrails (Photo credit: Hope For Gorilla)

Their airborne travels are marked
by the cloudy tracks they leave.
Though birds travel the same roads,
they leave barely an echo behind
for us to ponder their paths.
Yet we remember those songs
like scars upon our skin.
And ponder I do, these cool mornings,
when the sky travelers’ prints course
across that field of blue.

I see the east, west, or southerly routes
they took before the sun finished
its own hidden path to morning,
when we can see all. For now.
But the winds aloft and day’s progress
disperse the records of their passing,
just as this old man’s memory
will lose these tracks I here leave,
ethereal poems of here to there.

Please keep them safe for me.

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20 thoughts on “The Tracks I Leave

  1. This piece has such gentle sadness, yet seems hopeful, for we poets do leave tracks in the hearts, minds, spirits of our readers; a phrase, an image, a new word or several. I tell you the Hesch path within me is rife with pioneer & romantic & dramatic tracks; thanks.

  2. emotional write… another great thing about possessing artistic talents: when we pass, our writing remains… our feelings then become the only tangible form of us in a way… books, paintings, CDs etc… and hopefully someone who adorned us enough to keep them safe.

  3. Joe, at first this seems “up in the air” only, but then you add your tracks, all to be brushed away, and with it, your earthly self. This becomes a sort of parable, you know? The beauty of this work we do is that there is a record of who we were and how we felt; our passions, our pleasures.

    One thing I must mention, too… I remember sonic booms when I was a kid. That was a bit scary but thrilling to us.

    Beautifully written, heartfelt. BRILL. Amy

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