(because every now and then I ask myself: is it still there,
the willingness to choose the less obvious path?)
When fog has slid off the up-rolling hills,
Will I take the footprints captured in snow
or choose to climb the rough path of thrills?
When angst has left the up-growing child,
Will I tend the bench and watch people flow
or climb the boat of destiny’s wild?
See, the tree standing age-old
has felt the world of ages unfold
The woodpecker’s knock pounding the trunk
I listen in vain for secrets to thunk.
When cold has fled to un-distant shore,
Will I swim the creek my custom in tow
or ride the ocean to search and explore?
When fear has left the un-certain youth,
will I till a land quite painless to sow
or plod through the mud to find out the truth?
See, the cliff mounting the guard
has watched the sea for years without part.
The sea gull’s complaint screeching the rock
I listen in vain for stories to squawk.
But! Hear, the water lying so quiet
underneath the snow waiting to riot.
The primrose’s push breaking the earth
will bring me the tales of thousands of births.