To The Road

Boundaries, in the daylight,
A certain clarity in mundane tasks;
To wish the truth was sustenance enough,
The meal prepared, not prelude to silence.
Fences climbed at night,
To find freedom in a pasture
Not tilled in years, not fed
With hands not guilty.
The path to me, with gnarled roots
And treads mistaken for the higher road -
I’m happy to invite you here,
But walk with honesty, my friend.
This path is beaten down,
Your feet are dirty,
The woods are dark and lonely,
And we are all we have.