I remember how soft the path was
Spongy and springy with moss
Not yet packed down to solid earth
Exposing hard roots and rock.
A freshness here yet undiscovered
Later that morning
I walked in dark forests dry and brown
Rooted and rough
And only wanted to find my way through.
Now that I have
I wonder what the fuss was about
Why I needed to hurry so
What this was that disturbs me here
That I do not wish to pause to know.