Off track

At the trailhead
I pause
to examine two arrows
feebly nailed to an ancient post.

One points in the general direction of a roughish
path barely discernable
amongst the bramble

the other resolutely
precisely
angling
to the direction of a worn,
well-marked trail.

Instincts are silent.

I take the clear way, not wishing
for stickers in my
socks.

The walk is long
steep
wearing
despairing

there is no end

there is only dust
miles thick
from the shuffling
of feet before mine.

Rain falls in big weeping
drops

each falling into the thirsty dust
no trace of moisture left
they evaporate just as
they dent the surface.

I took the wrong path.
Unknowingly.
It is too far
to turn back
now.