The Trickster

When

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

One brushed by a trickster

The other a guardian spirit

I took the path I felt had the chance

Of finding a fox, don’t know why

But dread drummed like the woodpeckers

The further I looked down the trodden path

Those saplings, stretching out their infant arms.

So I came to your derelict patch

Eyes roving

Down the locks

Through the black smiles of factories, forlorn

When a voice found me:

“Why do you search so deep for a trickster so ‘sly?’”

“Because finding you means I’ve lost my way

And taking the path you’re expected to take seems the worst trick of all!”

Knowing the lesson was felt,

The fox revealed itself

With an eye that flashed the world in a line

And an ear that tuned out the fuzz, even in this dead silence.

Done