SPRING CRUST
All those many years ago.
We would go running across the snow.
The early morning spring crust.
A pure white highway you could trust.
It came right up to the front door.
With every direction yours to explore.
Over bushes under trees.
Every notion there to seize.
You walked on diamonds in the snow.
With every step the possibilities grow.
There were no manufactured barriers.
Sunshine only made the march merrier.
Spring is a prelude to summer.
As the day progresses the sun gets warmer.
Then without any warning.
The first lesson of the morning.
A break through into tangled brush.
To second guess the youthful rush.
To get back now would take some planning.
Every step a choice in understanding.
Shadows are an unlikely friend.
In getting to the highways end.
Inspection of the forward motion.
Trumps all those silly notions.
Direction becomes a necessary goal.
Now that the path is in control.
Yet I still look for that morning crust.
To bring me back to a time of trust.