from darkened wood
soft feet slowly tread
wandering away
from now hollow glen

they know not
where this path has led
led away away
from dissolved den

last season’s leaves
lend these steps a bed
and on they wander
since who knows when

another night these soles ponder
whatever words their steps had said
like grains of sand they fall and rise
raked clean from a many koaned zen

crossing now tall field of grass
these feet meet dew upon the path
remember the sounds and reminisce
of nine months with hands they miss

onward through dim night they tread
echo others’ words in feet’s head
firmament feels fashionably friendly
feet frisk the soil of land awoody

within this newfound wood
blossoms shaded flowers of hope
at last a sacred sheltered shield
silent shadows secretly sequestered

within silent wood a garden
where seeds may sprout
and dreams be spun
yet are these feet the only ones

wander still within this wood
beyond the garden
come at last upon a grotto
surely this a fruitful nook

rest these feet make it good
a rebirth from distant canyon
nurturing shall be the motto
if this cave should in ye look

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to grotto

  1. redgladiola says:

    There’s such an old-fashion tinge to this poem and a weariness that’s lifted at the end. Marvelous!


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