The Lost Path

Falling, silent and graceful; regal, stately crystal snow

-flakes sparkle. Tiny earth-bound stars, shot from the heavens stream-

ing down, down to lay where lost souls have passed on a road

lined with crisp brown needles shed by knotted pines.

Long has this place existed guarded by a lonely bridge

that sways in the winter winds as they hum a song of peace.

So quite these woods are left to stand peace-

fully watching the world change. Wearing new coats of pure white snow

they stand and guard, ever watchful of the swaying bridge

that rocks back and forth, back and forth over the frozen stream.

There is a feeling in the air, of emotion that only the pine

trees sense, hints of happy brighter days long since traveled down the road

that goes as far as the eye can see, and takes a lifetime to understand. A road

that leads to everywhere and nowhere, love and hate, sorry, joy and peace

but yet only few have found this path, which is hidden by tall pine

trees and rushing, babbling brooks and stream-

s have wiped any footprints clean and buried them deep under the swaying bridge

that guards well secrets that should not be kept from minds troubled by eluding peace.

Long is the winding, twinning, never-ending road,

as changing as the babbling brooks and stream-

s that flow, raging out hurt, tired emotions long kept secret, washed under the bridge

of time. Frozen time, lost and buried in a hazing of snow

covered spruce needles and knotted pine.

Stately and solemn stand the trees, sturdy pine

that lines the way down, down, down to the old bridge

that sways back and forth, back and forth. Laden heavy snow

spills down from tall branches on to the long road.

At dusk a fawn feeds, timid and quiet, unaware of the emotions battling for peace

in the air. Tiptoeing down to drink from the waters of the soul-seeking stream.

Sunshine glows bright and happy, spilling forth a stream

of light onto cold dark places. Quivering pine-

s turn their faces towards the glow, basking in the peace

brought by the sun. Everything has stilled, no more emotions battle under the bridge

that once guarded a secret well, but now tells with great joy and words echo down the road

spreading, creeping like new green ivy, full of life bursting after the last snow.

Over at last winter snow releases from silence the secret stream

filled with love uncontained traveling down a road familiar. The scent of pine

rises as the old bridge breaks away freed at last to return to resting peace.