Lost Path (27)

//Lost Path (27)

Lost Path (27)

Twelve hours of July heat,
The workday ended weary
Well beyond dark,
Dewy stars sparkling,

And beneath my feet,
The path I’ve followed
For twenty five years
Has suddenly vanished—

Tangled in chicory,
Queen Anne’s lace,
Knee-deep in timothy,
Knit with clover,

And I understand
Suddenly that it’s
Me who has vanished,
Star-blind, stumbling—

The reliable path, so trodden,
Only inches left or right
In the corporeal darkness, is
A mile, an ocean, a world distant.

By | 2019-07-29T22:26:53-04:00 July 29th, 2019|Farm|2 Comments

About the Author:

Forrest Pritchard is a full-time sustainable farmer and New York Times bestselling author, holding a BA in English and a BS in Geology from William & Mary. Smith Meadows, his farm, was one of the first “grass finished” operations in the country, and has sold at leading farmers’ markets in the Washington DC area for two decades. Pritchard's books have received starred reviews from The Washington Post, Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, NPR, and more.

2 Comments

  1. Rob Aldrich July 30, 2019 at 9:33 am - Reply

    Hi Forrest, Your message just arrived in the inbox and it transported me to a whole ‘nother world. Can’t thank you enough for these poems, and appreciate your bravery in sharing your thoughts. You have to be strong to be vulnerable. Just wanted to know you made my day\week! Cheers, Rob

    • Forrest Pritchard July 30, 2019 at 9:55 am

      Very kind, Rob, thank you! It’s been a joyful process, especially the feedback 🙂

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