Options
Faces in the wind
Seeming miles from shore
A blank page awaits
Walking fast past the window
The pane seems real
As any pain always will
Slowing down is an option
But you’d rather get answers
Than continue to question
Fleeing is an option
But a bridge looms large
As rivers of memories emerge
Standing is another option
But the brink seems dangerous
And a canyon of disdain
May dismay the heart again
Leaving the woods
Is an option
Faster than crawling over logs
Seizing the moment seems real
Until the sunlight pierces the grass
Then all bets are off and moving goes
By trees that stand even more still than water
Turning to ice in the snowy field
Praying is an option
Placing your life before the judge
Allowing your soul to be guarded
And guided as the weather booms
And the horizon seems old and worn–
I will make my bed of leaves, fold my hands
Calm my heart and mind and the winter
Storm will not touch my skin
Linda's Literary Home 