your first reaction seeing the horse shit
is wondering-
‘could it be from the last time we rode through?’
then realize it’s been a dozen years since this trail
and someone else has found an old path you almost thought
long forgotten

it’s never forgotten

not in your mind or dreams
it is simply shortened down into sections

‘turn here – there’s the apple orchard – and it’s right at the creek bed’

it almost feels as though someone were trespassing
when you find evidence such as this
then lose track of time and yourself when the trail opens up
and memories move past the saddle

in the city you think
‘things are always changing – the fast pace erodes everything’

while out here things may move at a slower pace
it is the same thing-
because other people come along and
discover these secret passages
-the trees close in on themselves and new tracks are created

so while the streets between concrete become home
these old trails remind you of what you once were
what is still inside
and what your age truly means……


About Crazy Irishman

Touted as a working man's poet, Martin Durkin has been writing professionally for the last 12 years. He has appeared in over twenty anthologies across North America, including, "And left a place to stand on", a collection of poems and essays about the late great Al Purdy. Durkin has also published two collections of poetry, "Hypnotic Childhood", and "The Sound of Quish". Over the past 4 years, Durkin has been on hiatus for the most part but has recently come back to the poetry scene creating a poetry site called, where in the past year he has written over 100 poems and created a cross over page on where he gives a story behind each of the pieces written. View all posts by Crazy Irishman

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