A Meandering Path
Of course, as Frost
Observed, paths diverge,
And each path yields
Its own landmarks.
And so, I ask myself,
What marked your path?
And what did you
See and discern
Along your path?
And then I wondered,
What would Frost think
If I told him
Of my meandering path.
An intricate wandering
Replete with thorns
And beautiful sights.
In truth, I would
Not trade my own
Meandering path through life
With those who chose
A linear, well-worn one.
I sadly fear,
They miss the joy
Of blazing new trails,
That reveal to us,
The intermix of brambles
With the soft and beautiful,
In the welter, along our way
By Albert Liebman