footprints

using more light bulbs
that look like curly-fries;

remembering to take
the canvas bags to the store
so i am not steeping
in more plastic;

taking a few degrees
off the thermostat,
and putting on
another sweater;

walking ten minutes
when i could drive it
in two:

i try to do a passable
job of reducing the damage
i do to creation.

but the guilt i carry
from that stupid misdeed
so many years ago;

the inability to knock
on someone's heart,
and ask forgiveness;

the foolish words
i dropped out of my mouth,
slipping and falling
on my keester
when i could have
lifted up another?

as i journey with you
to the healing place
of your heart,

may i look back to see
my spiritual carbon footprints
gradually disappearing.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman