Honeysuckle Path

As I make my way along

the steeping path,

still sodden and slick

from an early morning rain,

I catch the scent of honeysuckle

and decayed leaves in the damp air.

I clamber over jutting rocks

and raised tree roots as the trail

plunges deep into the woods.

Bluebells and daffodils

stand in clumps among the trees,

their coloring a sharp contrast to

the newly budding oaks and hedges.

Just beyond the woods,

in the rocky crags of hills and river banks,

the crape myrtles cling to precipices,

their woody stalks thick with leaves,

but still bloomless in the early spring.

And further up the trail, where it forks

to climb up through the hills

and curve down towards the creek,

lavender blooms in a sweet perfume

while butterflies spread motley wings

on lilac branches. As the sun moves

higher in the sky and peaks above

wooded hills, I take the rock pathway

that dips towards the Willows that huddle

in groves along the muddy banks

of the river, that takes you past fields

of brown-spotted Guernsey

that don't move except

for the random sweep of tails,

and then back up to the bluebells

and daffodils of the shaded woods,

the curling honeysuckle and damp leaves

lining the steeping path from my door.