Today
an impassable puddle
veered us from our path
of happy, habitual loops
of frequent dog-walking tracks
taking us
toward unused streets
of unseen sights
and unknown treats
leading us down
one age-old trail
a forgotten world
awaiting
a history fading
where tilting quarry towers
whisper colossal tales
like sleeping, sculpted giants
who once built towns of stone
now long silenced
and overgrown
such novel sights
inspire us
to seek the zag
instead of zig
go right
instead of left
shrug off
the darkening clouds
and slow
our wandering steps
combing piled and crumbling walls
a horse and cart apart
round age-less, red-soiled fields
ever curious
ever hopeful
– for what treasures
might they yield?
with every pocket loaded
with fragments of some past
we turn toward home
toward well-walked trails
inclined
to let them pass
choosing once more
less rambled streets
with spirits
like our pockets
filled
until we’re home at last
Dog-eared Stories by anne celano frohna 