![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2TgHgUzxr5M8jJe9-HxX-HhuxInFMus25U1rsTkFyKT_XR5OcSZW-e8sRl7S6BdXRkziuYgefWTsm9rQgDtUSJnMAYDWQQfllnYaHmiM4_Lxzg9PHX_L3JLizYLVwln4Eq4vi/s320/dawn_trail.jpg)
Laying the ground, let’s just say this isn’t really a loop:
the beginning and end meet, but the sky’s lighter, the
air drier on my skin, and the cormorant I saw with gulls
on a wet containment boom flew off as I looked its way.
scuffling in cypress needle duff. Or walking sans shadow,
not-loop again, recursive. Years ago these half-buried stones
sat atop the trail’s edge and I played patter-steps, hopping
stone to stone along the row. Today or later, another loop;
I’m sure to jump from rock to rock some more, wobbling,
awkward as that cormorant when it stepped into the sky.