Adventures

By Grace De Prophetis

Adventure, digital illustration, boy Roland

Hidden pathways off the open road,

secret footprints follow where they lead.

Children often wonder where they go,

they trace the imprints left in fallen snow.

A pack of them will venture through the woods,

at times no more than six will make the trek.

The wind will blow white crystals in their hoods,

an indication that this way! is good.

The leader, young, a weapon in his hand,

a sharpened stick he’ll use to shield them all.

Behind him is the girl, his second hand,

and little ones who follow through woodland.

The winter holds them all in silent awe,

the path meanders to a frozen creek,

no sound becomes the only heard outlaw,

except the breath of kids and chattered teeth.

Continue on, and follow far the path,

toward the quiet rhythm of the stream.

The water rushes deep below in wrath,

the place, in spring, where birds will take their bath.

These woods are watchful of the children’s place,

and darkness creeps behind the crescent moon.

The leader, all too mindful of their pace

turns them back and it becomes a race.

Now footprints deepen some begotten trail

that freshly fallen snow will cover up.

And ice, all cracked but painfully, so frail

will, through the night, turn thick and strong and pale.

The children sleep together, though they dream

of their adventures on the winter road:

And out the window, the wild woods, esteemed

by laughter on the path so very deep.