Member Rara Avis
The Winter of 1999 was the first time in over two decades that I found myself immobilized by heavy snow. For three very long days. One result of that enforced isolation was a poem called Winter's Threads.
Not being one to repeat past mistakes (I much prefer the excitement of making new ones), this year I packed my motorhome the day after Christmas, with the intention of spending winter in California. As many of you already know, I made it only as far as Louisiana, where I stopped to visit family (and instead became involved with family). I've stayed warm, renewed some familial bonds, and learned I'm really not very well suited to the travelling life.
Eight weeks later, with warm weather breaking in Michigan, I again headed North. Tonight is my third on the road, and the first where I've found a modem connection. I'm only about six hours from home, but I know once I arrive it will take me another day or two to reconnect my computer and otherwise get established again. So I'm taking this opportunity to post the sequel to Winter's Threads. And it seems entirely appropriate to post while I'm still traveling those …
I cannot speak for all who stem
'Long roads less traveled as their way,
Nor question choices made by them
In days long past or nights long dim
by words they spoke and did not say.
Each road is long, though short it seems,
And credence gives each road a name
Of fantasies sun-drenched in beams
Or choices turned to darkened dreams,
To where each road wends just the same.
From North to South, then back again,
I followed birds like all the rest
Escaping nature's snowy den
On roads I've seen and places been,
Forsaking roads that traveled West.
This journey grows now to its end,
As road reflections lined in chrome
Give way to roads with greater bend
And empty signs that still pretend
They point the way to home sweet home.
But all roads lead to where we go
And where we go is where we've been,
So home is just a word we know,
That space in time most apropos
For where we want to be again.
For even home, it seems to me,
Is still a choice we all must face
From day to day and endlessly,
To choose if home is going to be
Another road - or just a place.