Trace the tracks, the paths
of rabbits in shoes,
winter-running across
the dogless land.
They are overconfident of their wealth
and the system’s inabilities
to protect the cross-hairs,
even when the shrill tongue,
like a siren sound,
boomerangs off the cliffs
to stand as a Confessor
bearing witness to all
for all.
Behold! the snow
remains bloodless,
though never clean
within our sights.
April 2019 Day 2 / No prompt, just wrote.
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Jilly's 
Oh, that’s interesting. A whole jumble of images in my head now, waiting for it to settle down and for synthesis to emerge.
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Excellent!
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Lovely visual verses. I see snow shoe hares growing bolder and unscathed with winter but the confessor had me intrigued. I like how the slate is not quite clean at the finish – and can never be
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Behold! the snow
remains bloodless,
though never clean
within our sights – I love the way this turns the purity of snow on its head.
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