Beginning the Journey

Deep in the woods I ran and laughed
and filled my nostrils with the scent
of warm red earth and southern pine.
Life was an office, amply staffed
to render the business I’d invent
as soon as I found a product line.

I went places no one’s seen
but me, and talked in languages
till then unspoken; thus I made
a fortune off of blue and green
and found out the advantages
of dealing shrewdly with the shade.

Far in the sand I drug my shoes
and looked at the beetles lost in time.
Their little tasks were such as I
might well have taken on to use
had I not recognized the crime
or been distracted by the sky

where scarves of birds flew east or south,
and I’d look west to find the source
only to see the robber’s den,
Zeke with the canteen at his mouth,
and just beyond, his restless horse,
whickering at the smell of men...

And somewhere, past the rocky crags
I couldn’t see, or further yet,
was someplace else I had to go.
Oh, how life balks, stumbles and lags
for the boy whose girl has not been met,
when he knows, but doesn’t really know.