Patterns by Peter Christopher March, 2001

ten meters of mystery
in the middle of nowhere,
my walk in the woods,
a long scrape in the new snow
with fanned patterns on each side.
There are no footprints;
so what artist could have been here?   
did a hawk nab a rabbit?
or do aliens exist?
kaw kaw, and fluttter futter,
Now I see him,
it was used for a 
turkey takeoff.