It was a dreary day in September
The sky lingered with clouds and fog
I ought to tell the voyage that I remember.
In the wooden fenced pasture with the cows and dark trees
Aside, there sat a creek rustling, and whispering “Come closer please”.
The openness is calling, “Find peace in my silence.”
Birds stumbled lost, in the fog perch to perch and log to log
It was damp from the dirt, to the thick green grass, to the fence.
So I walked and walked to find what was beyond the fog.
The black and white, bubbly creek was like a guiding light.
Soon the black and white cows seemed to resemble minions of the creek.
Like I am on enemy territory, but what kind of enemy has wonder so bright?
I soon realize that I am on a journey about to find the answer I seek.
There is hope when you can’t see the way, and when you feel lost or weak.