Old Year's end

I crossed over that ribbon of highway,

that highway had just crossed over the river.

As I stepped onto the curb,

an eagle crossed over above me

and then glided over the river

to a tree on the other side.

I was bundled against the biting cold,

flannel-lined pants over long johns.

Then as I walked on the path below,

heading back towards the bridge,

I saw a woman jogging easily

along the levee above me,

heading downstream.

For every heavy step back I took,

she skipped ahead two.

Her legs were bare and glowing red.

At the dead end of the year,

I took it all I saw for a sign.

The highway will take us nowhere.

The eagle and the woman are

showing me the way.