blood-scented winter wind
tastes of spring mud
stings like paint chips
splintered into nailbeds
i look at my feet as i walk, collecting pinecones
feathered treebark falls
trodden down
on sidewalks
like crisp, flattened birds
saved between dictionary pages for decades
the hallowed parts of us
will transcend all
adversity
to be found and cherished
sought by the scavenger, immutable as nature
