Deerskin moccasins with silver

and turquoise bolos became my

footwear of choice for hiking

through the woods, soundlessly

stepping on last year’s leaves,

creeping up on the beaver

getting ready to drop yet

another willow down the

bank to shore up the lodge.

Hightops with buckskin laces

I could cinch snugly below the

fringe, these come from craftsmen

to the north, no cheap knockoffs

with a foreign sole/soul. I wore

them until they proved to be

beyond mending, have yet to

find a replacement that holds

the thousand footsteps that

would mean they are broken in.