I followed the bread crumbs back
to the mourning dove’s Morse Code
to the lines on the palms of the clouds
to the drawn faces of the fir trees
looking at me then looking away
each one a clue leading to a clue
I ran them all down until it seemed
the secret would never be found
the evidence no proof it ever dreamed
an endless merry-go-round
of half-remembered sound
or sign or gesture empty
but somehow profound
forever urging me on
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