RAGGED CREEK
With staff in hand I make my way
Down ragged creek on Christmas day
I make my way down ragged creek
No snow to decorate the trees
No wind rustle cattail reeds
Just a mist to hide the hills
And one lone light on a window sill
An owl to trumpet my lone passing
I stand alone and listen
The mist upon the moss has risen
To hang its web from the maple trees
And fold itself in the canopy
Darker days to come I know
This mist had hidden the crow
Who calls so late
Yet it's not so late
It's just the sun has changed its angle
And put me in this traveler tangle
I make my way before the night
Moving through the filtered light
The path is old I know the way
In summer I might stop or stray
Up ahead a warm light glowing
Maybe next time it will be snowing