somewhere, mischievously –
but i went along with it, anyway
– gathering my thoughts –
knowing there would be no destination
and the surroundings took on the illusion
of an unfolding pillared place – but open ended
. . . a breezy open winding space
from time to time, light scattered
in broken prisms, struck by a wizard's wand
and as i rambled on, i came atop a breathless hill
and caught sight of a small, ordinary pond
where the fragrance of cedar and wet earth
remain yet, more permanent in my mind
than if set down in pen and ink
for i thought it smelled like freedom . . .
if freedom had a scent . . . standing there
– wrapped in wild woods, under heaven –
on a road that led nowhere
note: posted for "Poets United".
photo: Road to Nowhere - W. Bourke
© 2015 Wendy Bourke
