A Road Going Nowhere

A Road Going Nowhere

I meander in a forest, passing groves of massive oaks,
Branches form a canopy. A nearby tree frog croaks.
The sunlight beams in fingered streams
Dappling patterns on the leaves.
I wander in the sea of trees.

Grandfather Oak sits off to the side
Beyond crumbling stone fence a full two foot wide.
Now fallen stones and oaken bones
Embrace the rock wall, with ivied fingers
Time forgotten, I pause and linger.

I walked this path once long ago
A different me, this much I know.
A lass so young with stories slung
Over her shoulder as she walked the trail
Innocent of the concept that she could fail.

Grandfather Oak has grown gnarled with age
Ancient oak bearded with moss colored sage.
No longer as bold, and feeling the cold
I curl once more on lower branch
My back to trunk and determine chance.

My road can go nowhere or yet it may
It’s up to me, it is my say.
It is still exciting, my thirst for writing.
My words have grown with passing time
I mentally draw an invisible line.

Here in the forest it is easy to hear--
My inner voice is soft, yet clear.
The time has come, so get it done,
Don’t let the fear of failing grind you down,
You will get published, this time around.

Here in this forest I know so well,
I cast aside worries, weave my own spell.
My strength I give, that my words shall live.
Begin my journey-- this time I’ll get there.
Off down the road going I know where.