The Path


 The nickels drop slowly into the well,

            the children forced by evil in the

            well to spend their allowances

            in a way the children could never

            have imagined beforehand.

 When the sun cracks open for the next day,

            the children vow to never go to

            the mossy well again.

 As the weeping willow tree’s long tendrils

            wave for the children to come to

            nature’s home to recover from their

            disaster, the children respond,

            praying for guidance under the

            tree’s mop of hair.

 While dusk protrudes from nature’s lair, the

            children sit in a circle to count

            their nickels, kind dark delaying

            its input until the children complete

            their task and are at home.    


 Claire T. Feild