Discernment

Way closes

so it seems.

Way lies

hidden away.

Bent in submission to winter’s weight

saplings bow

interlaced

shrouded in white

wet and frozen        

bent - not broken

reconfiguring what lies ahead.

Remnant leaves of bygone glory

brittle and brown

cling tight

obscuring vision

block clear way.

Limited sight

blinding sun on crystal prisms

gray clouds interspersed

flake filled winds

forming unfamiliar shapes and shadows

in frozen glory.

Which way?

I thought I knew.

I think I know,

but all is askew.

Give up the way forward?

turn around

retrace steps to familiar ground

to safety?

Or risk the adventure

trusting former ventures

trusting peace in the unknown

finding way one step ‘round

at a time
until hidden way comes clear?