TRAIL MIX

TRAIL MIX

What has happened to my life, for once I was on track,
And now the rain just keeps on pouring,
Seeping into sidewalk cracks,
And every nook and cranny of my life has been explored,
The depths to which I’ve plummeted from the heights I used to soar.

And all that I can do is curse the Holy Grail
And retrace all my steps along this misbegotten trail.
And I cannot blame another, for the fault is all my own.
But my fate is mired in quicksand, failure etched in stone.

It’s a trail mix is what it is, to coin a metaphor,
We mix the watercolors along our private seashores.
We gather the fruits of all our years, we paint our own design
And somehow I have run amok and desecrated mine.
A trail mix of dried fruit left behind from Eden,
Where Eve and Adam share the shame, banished from the kingdom.

A trail mix of coconut, of almonds and of raisins sweet
That swing from the tree above me, just beyond my reach.
I hear reproach in the crack of lightning, my hearing is acute,
The thunder it proclaims my name in its stern rebuke.
And life is like a little child who never learned to share,
Eating all the trail mix with trumpets and with fanfare.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED