by Rand Michaels

All too often, I think

We are led to think of a trail as a sort of metaphor:When Frost describes those “two roads”

Which famously diverged in his yellow wood

They don’t seem to be trails at all but symbols

Of life’s great choices.

I could hardly argue with his choice

For imparting this meaning, but contend still

That we must not forget the reality of trails.

Simply paths- whether plotted according to rules on a map

Or beaten slowly down through use:

A curving patch of rock or mud flanked by undergrowth

Which will happily take it back if left unchecked.