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.
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