Mark Blaeuer
has spent much of his working life as a park ranger, specializing in interpretation and cultural resources.
His poetry has found a home in numerous locations, including The Barefoot Muse, The Hiram Poetry Review, The Lyric, The Piedmont Literary Review and The Plains Poetry Journal.
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The Road Taken
I don’t remember what was down this road,
or why I took it, or when. I believe
it must have been about this time of year:
maple seeds were flying, and the cattle
avoided wallowing in the cold stream.
The woods were not quite yellow; Black Eyed Susans
were, yet. Just like now, clouds of gravel
blinded me. And wasn’t there a dead end?
A road like any other—little difference.
In fact it made so small an impression on me,
I have no choice but to follow it again.
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