The Path Most Taken

On the gurgling remains of Winter as she seeps back into the earth on a path around a lake flanked by the casualties of winter's breath cattails... brown and bent with broken heads backs turned to the pale yellow corn stock stubble standing in mud clad fields that lie beneath scattered hints of green where a red barn and silo stand in wait A gentle breeze... a ripple on the lake cattail fluff floating in the air a symphony composed by songbirds and frogs drifts across the land and bubbling streams that cut across the path Moss lies abreast the thin skin of winter still remaining in places where the sun never shines A blanket of burnt amber needles and prickly cones lie beneath a dark green canopy of pines impaled by glinting spears of sunlight where the path...for a momeent...is lost Thump...thump...thump.. the beat of leather souls on wooden planks over the marshlands... The lake erupts in torrents of water tendrils falling from the wings slapping the face of the lake as geese take to the sky... And beyond the forest of pines... the oaks and maples display their new burgundy buds and the few remaining leaves of Autumn... all crinkled and curled still clinging to the past on a well-worn path that circles around a lake with no beginning and no end where the seasons come and go... as do... I. Written: April 30, 2018 Author: Elaine Cecelia George