This is a poem about a hiking down a previously unknown trail and finding a gate deep in the woods and the curiosity and mystery of what might be found on the hill beyond the gate.

The Trail to Whippoorwill Hill
By Uncle Charlie
Two trails diverged on a blackjack hill
And knowing I should choose with care
From my vantage point while standing still
I surveyed one path to the best of my will
To where the woods grew thick and fair
Then took the other as it looked well trod
And I reasoned it should be the safer
It was well traveled so I gave it the nod
Though as for the actual trample of the sod
I suppose there was really not much favor
So I ventured forth along the way
And placed each boot with a gentle stride
Along the trail the woods did stay
As I trampled forth that day
With only the trail to be my guide
And up the hill I ventured forth
To see what lay ahead in wait
The evening sun was falling short
As a whippoorwill began his report
The trail lay guarded by a wooden gate
The gate imposed upon me there
A treasure there might lie in wait
A hidden den or secret lair
Could it be for me to share
Yet I was destined by the gate
So I stood there gazing and pondered long
As the shadows took away my sight
And the whippoorwill repeated his warning song
To venture forth it could be wrong
So I traveled back before last light
Henceforth I shall ponder still
The quandary I did find alone
Perhaps an old cabin rests on that hill
But I heeded the warning of the whippoorwill
And for today, today the trail is gone
©2011 Uncle Charlie (Charles G. Rankin)
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