The Road

The road was built by moccasins and hooves, wagon wheels and oxen, then came carriages & Model T’s. A long abused track that once pounded buckboards, and axils winds and curves into an uncertain tomorrow. Now the crumbling foundations of an old-time gas station mark where a paved road begins to end. By chance I found its destination, a shallow creek crosses where the track dwindles you can see where wheels meandered on only to bury themselves into ruts too deep to climb out of. I stood there peering forward, scrub and brush obscuring my view. It seemed like the beginning of nowhere but it had to be pointing to somewhere and so I walked on past where once hope had died.