the sun was just warm, the air was not stale.
The trail went up and across the hill,
As far as I know it is going on still.
A beehive it passed with bees buzzing round,
The hive in the pile of big rocks on the ground.
Through the grass winding, sometimes it was small,
On rocky ground often, was not there at all,
sometimes it was wide with a gift of some scat
left by some rabbits, a deer or bobcat.
The trails wound their way round the hill up
and down.
There were quail on the move making many a sound.
An black ant was climbing up out of his nest,
they are bigger here... so are bigger pests.
At the low marshy spot there were tracks in the mud
A raccoon had passed by, maybe ...with his bud.
A bird chirped hello from a cactus branch low,
then onward I went with farther to go.
Aunt Mary says next time to follow the trail
of the rare Arizona curly cactus snail.
The trail would be shorter by far she is sure,
So the sights would be fewer on that little tour.
Now I’m home and recalling with thoughts not too frail,
how this morning I followed the trail of a quail
Nov 14th 2010
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