Between a Rock and Googly Place

My life – it takes no wooded path
with a leafy roof to shade my head.
My road – it bumps over dirt and stone
on these wild hillsides I must tread.

My life – it offers no green embrace
on these treeless hills from rain or wind.
My road – it struggles up this earthen face
that crumbles and breaks and crumbles again.


My life – it changes, as brief as the dew
as quick as a whimper, as fragile as frost.
My road – it branches, and never in two,
more like shattered glass than merely a cross.

My life – it isn’t confined to white or to black,
it’s a chaotic palette that all choices defy.
My road – it diverges into so many tracks
that I must stare at my steps instead of the sky.