Traveling down my usual path
I came to the end of the road.
Nothing reminiscent of Frost’s two paths.
No glorious crossroads.
Nothing
but an old tree stump,
stuck
where blooming life once stood.
Stuck as well, I stood still as the stump,
feeling its paralysis in silent communion.
I could turn and go back;
head for the comforts of home.
Or go around it, I suppose, and forge
on straight ahead. Today, though, I
chose to stop and rest on the stump.
Though the wooden widow made quite a
pleasant chair, I suspect the trade unfair,
as I must have paled
in comparison to its earlier foliage.
From my new vantage point,
as my pulse slowed to calm, I began
to notice Earth’s movements around me.
Leaves twitched and giggled in the wind.
Squirrels wrestled nearby
unconcerned with my presence.
Clouds more like commas
slid toward tomorrow.
I have no idea how long I stayed there,
or what brought me back to the trail,
but I’d venture to say that if I had
an eternity to rest in that place, it
would not have been time wasted.
Lori Boulard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/out-walking-among-nature-and-poetry/
