Vagabond

For a seeker such as I, life is a
long trial for this vagabond with worn shoes
from the trek turned to summer's hot asphalt,
or autumn's carpet of dying amber.

But what of winter you may ask of me?
Thus, there's the rub.  For with this harsh season,
its curses are many, its blessings few,
my robe and staff of words insufficient.

And so it is, that with each passing year
as my sojourn comes full circle again,
hope struggles pitifully anew come spring
to find where the keys are to glory's gate.


Entered in the DUP competition "3 term".