DM Babbit Poet Prose

The Watchung Mountains

There is a spot hidden deep within the wood
  so that if like me, you drive up the back roads
  the autumn leaf cover still keeps it secret.
Few others know of it, though if you look
  you can see  faint paths  imprinted
  where searching feet pressed hard upon the ground.
 One of many paths in the Watchung Mountains
   winding quietly, lost and serene beneath the mighty trees.

Whenever I had gone and that was often in my youth
  there was no parked car, no one else there walking, 
  to glimpse the open view far beyond the rocks and brush.
It was my place of solitude and prayer,
  the place where I could go and breathe the air in deeply,
  safe away from the noise and clamor of the world without.
I go back now too infrequently eyeing the still worn paths
  grateful that some things remain unchanged in this life.

Let me step there firmly just a few more times
  and walk along the earth in awe and admiration
  of the mountain’s view and memories held within.
Let me reflect on the path my life has taken
  it was here among the trees and solitary paths
  that often gave direction, guidance and on occasion, 
Came the answers to my prayers
  as I walked in the thicket of the Watchung Mountain
 and all the secrets sought and hidden there.

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