Tracks and traces

Tracks and traces
etchings in the palette of the day,
feet and wheel and slithered sled
have all trespassed this way.
They cannot hide their wanderings
meandered evidence reveals their wake
and every sidestep confirmation
of the route they take.
Here the light and cold of day
shouts where they have been
pitted snow which once cloaked
and hid with shroud
is not now so pristine.
Yet tomorrow’s thaw, for thaw it will,
will loose all trace and track,
and aimless wander or direct route
to here and there and back
will be swallowed up by slush and mud
with no hint to be seen
of what was once clear evidence
of everywhere you’ve been.
Now that’s the thing to remember -
transgressions become like snow
when the touch and love of Christ applies -
there’s nothing left to show
of this or that or the other thing
done or left undone
it’s faded into nothingness
thawed, forever gone.