ZIG ZAG

Zig Zag

Zig Zag really doesn't much,

it is pretty much straight through
as it lolls and waits on or digs out

from the winters toll

squat moss cabins tucked in with

 pallet wood smoke along this wet track

 of spent cinders and the spray

from endless brown snow melt,

hunkered down like porched wet dogs.

 a once celebrated brief reward

when you were mudded and done

with this pass up Barlow's hewn track.

It waits for you amid the trees with a tow truck

and a bright Dairy Queen, and at 40 miles per hour,

slowly it goes by quick on this last leg of the mighty trail.

11.28.2011