The Winding Path

Down the road from where you dwell,

The trees arch high, their branches swell.

Winter’s whispers brush the air,

Bare limbs reach skyward, sparse and bare.

The asphalt curves, a gentle bend,

A ribbon stretched to journey’s end.

The golden light of morning gleams,

Awakening quiet country dreams.

Electric wires trace the skies,

A modern thread where nature lies.

Yet harmony flows through this space,

Where time moves slow, a steady pace.

Each step you take, the earth reveals

The quiet song the season seals.

A road that’s more than just a way,

It holds the stories of the day.

Breathe deep the air, the moment stays,

A fleeting glimpse of fleeting days.

For down this road, as seasons turn,

There’s always something new to learn.

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