Frost’s Cryptic Air

Free Verse

Photo by Eugene Golovesov on Unsplash

Frost’s cryptic air
and bare charcoal trees
look for pieces of themselves
above and below
and the spaces in between.

Owls and angels alike
watch each and every stranger
passing through the woods
with heavy hearts
and they witness the chilling silence
of lost dreamers underfoot.

And as winter buries them
and silences their requiems,
I have to wonder
how many roads less traveled by
ended up this way?

Diverged and twisted
like a labyrinth throughout
the unknown depths
of these snow-covered woods,
few have walked
the winding roads ahead of me,
and even fewer have seen
what is on the other side —
and I imagine how few
ever get the chance
to savor the fleeting moments
of weightlessness,
of pure warmth untouched
by the harsh winters below.