I have traveled far in Concord.
H. D. Thoreau
Come and walk this path with me,
wherever it may lead—it’s fall,
my favorite time for pilgrimage.
Attune your senses. And if you dare,
leave thought behind, for I have traveled
westward paths before and know
that instinct makes the most of them.
You’re ready? It’s a trying walk,
but sanative for those sans terre,
who wander through uncharted woods
and wasted lands. You walkers-errant,
come! Let’s shoulder through this hedge.
Perhaps we’ll see a holy land,
find the way a la Sainte Terre,
where once, despite constraining creeds,
I strolled into a primal grove,
the only source of Saunterer’s Apples,
and lost myself amidst the trees
until I found the wind-fall fruit—
hallowed by its tang, my tongue
and lips were freed to sing of it.
by Ralph La Rosa, first published in Chimaera 7
Editor’s Note: The references to Thoreau’s work in this poem are interwoven nicely with the meaning, and ultimately, enrich the text beyond the poem’s cleanly constructed lines. [Thoreau: Walking and Wild Apples]
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