In the Country

A lone, I sit in the country side
scuffing my feet in soil

I felt the Earth shift between my toes.
She was like warm aroma, but not like perfume.
She seemed brittle and old, not quite dead
like the trees down the road.

As the soil lay still, I wondered
what may become of it.
Away from the city, it lays peacefully.

I sprinkled the soil over the pavement.
It fell back into its place, creating small dust clouds,
and the soil became a dusty trail.

Walking, the city seemed far, and smoke staffs turn blue skies gray
leaving the sun deep in a haze that soon would fall
back into the soil.

I smothered the soil under my bare feet
and, left by right, I left a trace of me.