Not on the trail to Nistowiak Falls,
near Stanley Mission.
Not a pop can.
But there it is,
nestled among the purple asters and the foliage,
like a newborn swaddled in its bassinette.
Only the depressed tab on the pristine can
attests that a hiker,
skulking along the trestle
between stewardship and convenience,
rid himself of the insufferable burden
ten minutes before returning to camp.
photograph the can,
and leave it there.
Impatience and oblivion prevail again.O Earth, where is the hope?