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.