Paths by O.T. Park

I like walking worn down tracks

Where the beat of human feet

Has steadily marked the time.


Paths where trees eclipse the sky

and where dabbled light anoints

The knotted and gnarled ground.


Long lanes scarred by raised roots

Which form illegible inscriptions;

Where vegetation creates a nave

and the trail itself an endless aisle.


A placid place that celebrates

Feet moving in communion.


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O.T. Park lives and works in Guildford. He has had poems published in Eye Flash Poetry, The Dawntreader and The Cannon's Mouth.

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