Where do I go from here?

The path before me
hides like a playful toddler
giggling in the pansies,
Her dirty little toes sticking out
from behind the moss-covered
tree stump. The one with the sapling
growing from within it's burnt and battered bark.
Just as I catch up to her
she disappears. I follow.
Her melodic hum, a song
I've never heard, but know
by breath, lures me forward.
I turn a corner, I turn another,
there's a new friend, a new book,
a new treasure discovered
under the unturned rock
I just tripped on. Knee skinned,
I linger too long and the tiny toes
dance in the periphery. I run
towards them as they tiptoe
across sticky webs floating
on sunbeams too bright to
look at directly. Day after day
we play in the rainshine and
sundrops and breathbeats
we soak in them till our
fingers get all pruny. We play
till the moon says goodnight
but who can lay down, eyes closed,
when the playful path
wiggles it's dirty little toes
in silver pools of possibility

#30minutepoetry from last summer...