I can see where your paw prints lay
As lazy as sleeping cattle;
You left them in the sand one day
After the rain’s recent battle.

By such deluges freshly strewn,
The sand was begging to be trod;
Its past impressions picayune
And temp’rary will have no laud.

You’re all I see in silica,
Joining a collection of tracks
In this woodland basilica
That droppings as well scarcely lacks.

Amid desperate survival,
I can just make out the faint signs,
Left long ere the land grew nival,
Of passers through my copse of pines.

By some means they have persevered
The erosive forces of time,
Perchance ’cause their impact endeared
Them, or their acts were much maligned.

Regardless, they’re but faint mem’ries,
Unlike the lunar footprints found
That will last through eternities,
Long after I cease to be ’round.