The Road Travelled

Fullbeard Lit

 Yes, I found it, really just the road I needed,
Less the doubts and questions,
Inside woods I hadn’t known yet, now, that done,
The snow begins in small flakes
One each one each
One at a time they fall to their place
On the leaves that too
One each one each
One at a time fell to their place here


Here, where stillness can only be unstilled
By a breeze that misses the leaves felled
And the deer that misses the season to be felled.
I am here, too, still as a snow on a leaf
My heart a tiny rhythm for the voice
That whispers through bare branches
What matters, yes, what matters
One each one each
One at a time fell into meaning. Still.

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