Edith Mirick

Crooked Roads

I am afraid of straight roads
That stretch into the sun.
I would walk a crooked road,
A stumbling rutted one.

I would walk a crooked road
Winding among trees;
If it has an end it is
One that no one sees.

I would walk a crooked road
And wonder at each bend.
I am afraid of straight roads
With their certain end.