The Other Road

This is not the road you would have chosen.
No your road was broad, a holiday road
a path to spring, southern love and daydreams
that felt real, certain and clear.

But, this is the road you are on.
Storms after a perfect day have left all others
closed. Trees suddenly fallen, block the way,
and this is the only way out,

a dark uncertain road into a forest you do not know.
A dirt road, bereft of flowers, a smattering of snow,
calling you to walk unprepared through winter.
You take it. There is after all, no other way

and you are not the type to go nowhere
for very long when there is a perfectly good road
in front of you. Even not knowing
where it might lead.

It may not lead to spring, and you can tell
the road is steep. It does not follow the sun
but perhaps there will be things of beauty
along the way. Often there are, even on the worst roads.

About this poem

Who among us have ever had dreams diverted? Who among us have been corraled into paths not of our choosing?

The picture was taken not far from my home in West Pawlet. You can get museum quality prints, or the image on a number of household items (cups, Yoga mats, almost anything at Fine Arts America)

Tom