The road travelled is not innocent! It’s an accessory to the untraveled path ahead ! Unworn but with intent! The road is barred and locked! The way around has no signs of wear! The sand here is coarse and hard like living! The sand where I’m from is soft and maternal ! In my mind it’s a fog of mixed collectives of where to go from here! The arrow points south; and now winter’s here and the flock have warmed to the idea of another sense of place. One ponders the journey there; is it automatic; innate ; or is there a battle plan of strategic thought involved? Or is it just simply a case of survival! The migration of the cranes on the cityscape are building a future for someone; but not me….being better is being home! And home is like soft sand inbetween your naked thoughts ticking to a different innocent time….