Fernberg Road - Poem by Joyce Chelmo
Hwy #169 North ends
somewhere over the bridge into Winton.
A fork in the road;
one way leads into our little village,
the other leads down Fernberg Road
to another steel framed bridge
that crossed over the Shagawa River.
Just beyond that bridge was
a gathering of pines
I often slipped into.
A path lead to a ridge
overlooking a fall lake bay.
Dependant on how much I needed
to work off my mind
determined how far I rode
on my blue 26' bicycle
with chrome fenders.
Endorphins have long been
my remedy for daily stress.
I can still hear my wheels grinding
on mauve asphalt.
Pine and Birch towered over
each side of the road.
Their shadows covered me
and cleansed me somehow.
My Senses savor the pungent pine fragrance
& the sound of ravens & finches
harmonizing with my labored breath.
Comments about Fernberg Road by Joyce Chelmo
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You