The Dirt Road

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A smooth road just isn’t my style. Steps are too silent, too easy, there’s no mystery.  Blacktop streets are made for more than just one traveler. They are meant for followers, for those who like a solid ending. No harm in that. There’s something to be said for a clean path that leads to a known place.

I like the sound of gravel beneath my feet. The crunch and grit remind me to feel the earth and know my place.  My steps are small, but full of wonder. When stones bounce off my toes, I watch them roll and skip across the ground. Did fate choose their resting place or did chance?

Blurred edges blend the dirt road and wild borders. It’s easy to wander in the shade of leaves or challenge the blocks put forth by trees.  It’s just me with the wind and my pulse running wild.

My dirt road is not aimless, for it always leads somewhere. Whether a dead end or a side street to well-trod tar, the gravel must end, too.  Regardless of the twists and turns, it follows me wherever I go – a standing invitation for when life gets too quiet.

A dirt path near Minocqua, Wisconsin
Photo by: c.b.w. 2013

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c.b.w. 2013