An Edge to Walk

There is no path.
The path is made by walking
Or running.
Trails are lines of thought.
They meander,
Crisscross each other,
Fold,
And flow off in
Odd directions.
Emotions are no more visible
Than the wind,
Until they touch something.
There is nothing
Out of place here.
How could there be,
It's nature.
An edge to walk.
Or run.

© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved. 2020.
All names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this blog are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. © All rights reserved.