The path stretches before me,
Speckled with fallen leaves
It waits.

The air is still and silent.
Like the hour before a storm...
It waits.

Snow lays on the ground
Firmly hushing the world.
It waits.

The clouds are heavy and gray,
Filled with soft, light crystals.
They wait.

Birds light on the ground,
Huddling close together,
They wait.

The entire earth holds its breath,
Silent, unmoving and anxious.
Waiting.

Trees stand, as stark sentinels
Along the pathway. Ice glistens
On their twisted boughs.
Waiting.

Hesitating, I take a slow step,
Snow crunches under my foot.
The sound is loud, shattering
The apprehensive silence.

Softly the wind stirs
The trees as I pass by,
Causing them to lower branches
In a stiff, noble salute.

Snow drips from the sky
Falling heavily down,
Landing gently on my
Shoulders as I walk.

Ice crackles loudly as it falls.
Torn from its precarious place
By the suddenly staggering
And brutal wind.

The Birds rise as one giant
Cloud, startled into flight
By the fallen ice,
They follow the path.

I walk strongly now,
This path is mine.
It was laid for me
My choice made it mine.

Nature herself waited
For that simple thing...
Waited to see who would walk
The long, curious path.

I follow the rocky path,
Speckled with fallen leaves.
Not knowing where it ends,
Yet knowing it is mine.

It waited...for me.