to deal with the
E V E R Y D A Y
M A D N E S S
i veer off course
and happen upon a path not taken
no footsteps behind me
none in front of me
only the soft ground
drenched by the season's wintry mix
waiting for spring's creeping greenery
my feet quicken
eager to see where this moment leads . .
to . . .
this afternoon's private haven --
a familiar creek's rush