Crossing the Backwoods
anacreontic verse
The path seems clear
before me. Strolling
before daybreak,
each step becomes
a test for my lack
of concentration.
Up ahead,
a tangle of vines
forces awareness,
brings blood to my cheek.
Unseen rocks and holes
disturb my gait;
my ankle complains.
I resolve to
return to this path
with proper tools,
chop the briars,
and move the rocks
to fill the holes.
Encroaching further
upon nature’s yard,
I am warned by
striking red skies
as sunrise dawns.
Decision is made.
I will leave this place
untouched by
human hands.
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016
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