I stood to view the forest’s cloak
residing over the meager scratch
a passage forced upon the world
sharing landscapes of my trek

two tracks led through the woods
on the edge of fog’s domain
bordered by ranks of trees
witness to passage’s sway

leading forward beyond the curve
matching rearward to fade away
here in the moment the matching ruts
assure comfort from history

the promise of exit’s grace
implied by furrows marring earth
green removed by wheel’s tread
echo transport of the past

what came before may repeat
assurance given by the fray
impressed upon the fateful earth
direction stated by my sight

a journey paused may resume
by the bounty of this road
skirting wilds where nature rules
I’ll find my way by the grooves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181024.