The Next Clear Step

A dated choice can be a footprint
pressed into new snow.
Beside it, a small sign points
to the step that came before.

Follow slowly.
The turn matters.

Here the work changed direction.
Here a song was kept with its companions.
Here a new way of checking sound
measured what it could,
while other questions waited
for an ear.

The marks give a later beginning
something firmer than a guess.
They cannot draw a missing journey
out of white ground.

Some paths have passed
beyond the available record.
Let that distance stay visible.

You call this a living journal.
It can hold the bright arrival,
the unfinished trial,
the change of mind that saves
a day from walking
in the wrong direction.

A new snapshot has found the earlier one.
The link is small;
its purpose reaches further.

When the conversation thins,
there may still be a way
to find the last clear choice,
read why it mattered,
and carry it forward
with its date intact.

Beyond the newest mark,
snow remains unpressed.

No need to name tomorrow's weather.
Keep today's step where it can be found,
and leave the open ground
for work that has not happened yet.