TRAILS

Near silently I drift the path
through these woods of autumn gold
in a soaking night rain's aftermath.
The air is crisp but tending cold.

The sun breaks through the fleeing clouds,
hurling lances here and there
which rip apart the gray sky's shroud
with a scattering reflected glare.

My pace is slow on down the way
but I'm not really in a hurry
to fill up this day's empty pail
and resume a life that's frought with worry.

This time of year is named just right
a truth revealed with every breeze
which even though it might be slight
sends foliage floating in a tease.

I stop to rest on an old stump
which over looks a shallow hollow
and listen to the walnuts thump
along this route I chose to follow.

I see the flicker of an ear
as acorns patter to the ground
giving a reason for the deer
to appear with hardly any sound.

The doe feeds slowly out of sight
with no idea that I've been there
same as the squirrels off to my right
who cavort and feed without a care.

With building wind comes cooler air
which sends a shiver down my back
the world demands I be elsewhere.
As I arise knees pop and crack.

I look around before I leave
at the wandering trail which still goes on;
though it is endless I perceive
I'll reach its end before too long.