Seldom lies the traveler in this place of shade
Away from the road, concrete ocean he sails
Today there are no ships—they wait in harbor
So here he lies beneath a canopy
The wind kept at bay but nothing to do about the cold
Sylvan calls echo through the trees
A language he almost understands
Sounding out of the deep place that fades into shadow
A river running into a valley waiting to feel his touch
Inside there is a life for him
Beyond the winding road, he could travel on woodland paths
And happiness would find a place by his side
Faerie voices whisper as much to him
And his dreams swim in those far off visions
But when the cold day passes
And the ships begin again to sail
He will move on, and listen as those voices fade into the distance

Photo by Stephan Seeber from Pexels