Old Paths

Old pathways intrigue me
meandering in no great hurry
no longer of perfect width
or depth
or direction
wandering as though lost
they find their own way
moving in slow time

Each season leaves its mark
tea leaves waiting to be read
so that by spring
when the snow has melted
autumn’s leaves and winter’s detritus
swept aside
this year’s character is revealed
becoming what no one intended
finding new truth with every turn
no longer caring about original intent
it goes where it goes
takes what comes
adapts as life around it adapts

This morning’s mirrored reveal
of wrinkles and a sagging center
wearing here
cracking there
like an old pathway wandering
I am not what I set out to be
but no matter
that was never important
for there are mysteries still to ponder
and seasons yet to turn

Marv Himmel
June 21, 2015 ©

Photo by Arno Jenkins