It was a fine spring afternoon,

free of worry, sorrow, gloom.

I spy a small bridge spanning the distance of a small gap,

In a small valley, overlooking a small bird’s tap.

On the bridge, I find myself on a trail,

Up the hill it went, with stair creaking and frail.

Stair after stair, up and down, again,

I find myself next to a fire pit, sheltering wood in.

How intriguing, I thought, with death comes the hearth of life,

That nature’s sacrifice can lead to warming might.

I continue down this trail and find myself following a turkey,

running away with wisps of its tail, almost making an urge to follow he.

He knows this timber maze much more than me,

Like a minotaur, but scared, gliding a few feet airy.

He peeks his head out from behind an arbor,

Testing if I could go any farther.

Now I realize what is going on,

he is trying to have fun.

Every twist and turn, deeper into the deep corridors of the woods,

At last, it takes off, past a buck on a hill, where it stood.

Mighty in its majesty, the golden lining of the woods’ saviour and its empire,

It takes a mighty long time to realize what is happening entire.

I’m surrounded by the natural empire of the stag,

while does, skunks, and ‘munks let their tails drag.

This beauty was on the path ahead.

While his reign lead.

Stamping on the dirt, he did in agress,

Showing the power of the mighty forest fortress.

I hear a swooping behind,

the turkey, me, he finds.

Trying to take me off down the road,

I held my ground as he moaned.

He, then, darted off, down the path of destiny,

something only one can do solely.