old buggy trail

There is a road
Echoing of the past
Where horse and buggy once bounced about
Crossing the Little Falling River
But always known to us as the creek
The road is now overgrown and nearly gone

The fields of hay give way to a sweet sounding gush
Life’s sustainer, water, rushes smoothly over rocks
With memories of children splashing about
Swimming holes and grapevines
Not just us, but also the Native Americans of yesteryear
I remember the feeling of mud squeezing between my toes
As irrigation pipes prepared to provide rain
Providing food
Providing the ability of these words to be written
And for families to be raised

Nature is beauty in its truest form
The farm, no better place to have a childhood
To learn the true lessons of life
To take care of the land so it will take care of you
To nourish your family and be connected to your community
To love and laugh and work and sweat
To take a break from the race of mice and men
And sway with the trees, become deep rooted, and smile at the majestic spectrum of a vibrant sunset

Walking through the woods it’s quite hard to see
The slopes turn so subtle and calm
But with a little glare and a slight tilt
Squinting through the brush at the right time of spring
You can almost hear the laughter emanating throughout
And smiling eyes and waving arms
On that old buggy trail into town