Comfort abounds with many choices,
the ability to hide from truth, masked faces.
The ignorance of those too young to slow
darting through birches, row after row.
I delight in trails that wander wide;
but never was I one for the gift of flight.
For the bird, though swift,
sees all too soon--
the edge of the forest,
the will of the moon.
for abundant paths to navigate
bring solace to my heart.
So in the darkness I'll forge ahead
until the day one way remains
and beauty leaves the fray.
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1 comment:
E, I appreciate the tone and subtlety of your recent posts. I like them.
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