June 01, 2023
Arise young child! A rise and be glad
the morning is here, wash your face and be clad!
the sun pokes it's face over mountain and glade
the trail awaits, it's a gentle soft grade!
A hike in the wood
down a green sylvan pike
the dawn so pleasant down the trail I strike
All the birds are so happy, no time to be sad
now hurry along son so much to be had.
thus the trail does becon thus the morning does bade
and I eagerly strayed from the night times long shade!
O'er the hills and the valleys , o'er rivers and streams
In the stillness I dally not for long so it seems
In a race with the sun, which so lazily hurries
I find marvelous fun, and in joy have few worries
Oh what a wonderful thing is the morning in June
all the birds are out singing, all their marvelous tunes
but still that old sun seems to race far ahead
and my brow is now damp, and my skin turning red
And every so often a path breaks from the trail
and I'm not really sure if my course will soon fail
Do I turn right or left, do I follow the sun?
Do I turn at the cleft, or do I stay on this run?
I make my choices though I'm not really sure
the woods whispering voices to my mind as a lure
Each step of the way the road seems to grow narrow
Each passing climbs steeper, and I find it does harrow
The shadows are creeping, longer now in the afternoon
I wish I were sleeping, but it won't come too soon
the trail is long and is dusty and hot
I don't feel as strong as my hopes would allot
And still I have such a long way I must go
I climb up the ridges and climb down below
the bugs are about now and I swat them with zeal
I'm hot and I'm tired with a sore on my heel
The pleasant breeze of morning has turned a hot wind
it happened without warning, like a curse for ones' sin
My water's running dry now and my food is nearly gone
I swat away the flies and I miss the bright blue dawn
Oh where did the glories of the morning fly?
so playful and so joyous but now they are so shy
It's getting late now and my hike is winding down
I know not what my fate entails but I trundle without sound
I long for laughter, I long for friends
I hope that after I'll make my amends
The shadows long now, like ghosts on the path
their haunting songs put me in fear of their wrath
Shadows of the blades of grass
loom over me like sharp knives of brass
The trails are all converging now, my choices narrow more
is this the end of my great hike, or is there more in-store?
It seems it didn't matter which road I chose to tread
all roads pose the same portents, they fill me all with dread
And there in the distance I spy a high dark wall in the twilit gloom
I hear the cries of birds of prey, I fear the hand of doom
But there is no way to pass the wall, or turn back from my route
the grass is dry and withered now, the trees bereft of fruit
Then I see the tiny door in the wall so great and small and bare
My only route to get back home, I must take it, I must dare
I seek what lies beyond the door but the bright and sunny day
has turned to dust and the sun to rust,and my limbs will not obey
I stand alone on that windblown plain
the twilight gone
as is my lane
But I am afraid in a way I have never been before
what, pray tell, lay beyond that way
what beyond it is in store?
But there's no going back and there's no sitting still, though I desperately wish there would be
so I slip off my pack and I hike up my will and I poke in my head for to see
An undiscovered country, a morning pure and bright
a better place to tarry a place with joy and light
I looked back on my trail and saw my still self there
a strangely empty visage, a cold and blank dead stare
What do I care?
I slip inside the door
there I'll find so very much more.
Posted by: Bill H at June 01, 2023 09:51 AM (Q7br2)
Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at June 01, 2023 12:33 PM (DC7SW)
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