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