This Poem was Submitted By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-04-23 15:41:56 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Reality Path

Reality lies on the path - or off, Walk softly through the woods, Don’t frighten it. Glance around the pine, The maple dappled north with lichen; Tread with caution past little piles Of deer dung bullets, snap a twig, See a whitetail fly, A scolding chipmunk, a butterfly. Inspect your mossy, pine needle carpet Closely for busy ants, bees or centipedes. See the nest in a hemlock loft. Life is real On the path - or off! We must travel it, trust answers will Come. Whitman has them now, Maybe too when leaves of grass grew. How? I’m still on the path, or off! Follow the path by moonlight, or without If you can, peer through the shadow canopy At twinkles --- another night, the sprinkles, Next day the dewdrop web spray Of the eight-legged splendor. Enjoy your cushioned step in pungent Almost-dirt that’s audible to And activates a pheasant drummer. Beware the branch that would stab your eye, When barefoot the acorns or butternuts That would puncture your sole, The exposed root for stubbing your toe. Obstacle-free? Not on the path - or off! Pass through purple myrtle, The raspberry branch, the alder thicket; See propellers slice clouds in two, Noisy yet mellow, peaceful, not bombing you. Avoid the burdock bracts, the poisons of sumac, Ivy, oak and thoughtlessness; Skip through waving shadows, the fallen Rotting apples from bygone orchards rolling On the path - or off! Further up the path (near Canada), Step into yesterday’s home where blacks Paused to catch a breath, a snack To nourish bodies and souls before The last leg of their dash to freedom On the Underground Path - or off! Pass a by-gone logging road, A red-winged blackbird on a cattail catapult, A toad, a toadstool, a moose nose-diving for lunch And a woodpecker nose-tapping for his. The path often widens, narrows, rises or falls. So be attentive on the path - or off! Today I met a man on the path, Befriended his egotism And white, bearded smile. Whitman it was, he who claimed to know all, Love all, but after all, I question all. An excellent time we had, though, Discussing and lying on leaves of grass While other friends and lovers passed, Not seeing us, nor caring to, Here on the path - or off!

Copyright © April 2004 Wayne R. Leach

Additional Notes:
I enjoy wandering the path with Whitman under my arm to read when finding a comfortable spot in nature.


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