The foreigner

makes his way

as the snow falls.

His feet,

unaccustomed,

are awkward and crude,

and leave a crooked

muddied

trail

in a vast

and white

field.

He arrives at a cottage,

and writes his name 

with red ink

in an empty guestbook.

He takes off his boots.

and looks out the window.

sees his trail in the snow-

but longs for a path home.