A Bench by the Side of the Road

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Just a bench without plaque or notation  

Of events either stirring or grand.

Nor is it a rough-hewn construction  

Inclining a traveler to stand. 

It rests at the point of conjunction  

Of many a well-traveled path, 

But gives no real hint of direction  

Of what future should follow the past. 

So I sit in the twilight of evening 

Watching fireflies welcome the night, 

And suppose that I ought to be leaving 

But somehow it just seems to be right 

To linger awhile while believing  

That one path or another will tempt me 

As the moon fills the sky with her light. 

‘Til then I will try to stay peaceful, 

While enjoying this lack of a load, 

And keep time with the call of the crickets 

As I rest on this bench by the road. 

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