In the forest, I walked with my head down,
It was easier so, ‘neath my burden;
My boots were muddied and scuffed;
An eyelet rode free on frayed lace.

The winding path was hard-packed
From years of heavy, burdened travel;
Pebbles and stones ground-in and smoothed
By soles, and the wind and the rain.

The soil varied in color,
Brown, black, and gray, and tan;
Grass fringed the edge of the trail,
The way spectators watch a parade.

The breeze soughed in the trees,
And rain spattered off leaves;
A frog croaked some distance away,
And my boots squish-squished in the mud.

My eyes rarely saw other than earth,
‘less reflected in puddle of water;
Once, as I wandered in thought,
I glanced up for the blaze on a tree.

Life is made up of moments
Packaged in bits of time;
The world’s a window of frames,
Each a vignette of life.

“They grow up so fast”
“I missed the sunset”
“I don’t have time for you now”
“I’m almost through with this game”

“Oh, where have all the years gone?”

One day, I shed my burden,
My neck and my shoulders were sore;
I arched my back and stretched all the
Muscles and joints of my body.

Eyes closed, I threw my head back,
Breathed deep and opened my eyes;
Sky deepest blue and puffed clouds,
Birds chirped in trees all around.

I shook off the burden that weighed on my soul,
The time thieves that robbed me of life:
The clicks and the swipes and the channel selects,
The beguiling seductress that sucks away time.

Life is made up of moments
Packaged in bits of time;
The world’s a window of frames,
Each a vignette of life.