The place in my mind is featured as real, as the day I went down it in August. A trail by a creek, where Aspens run deep near the high road that leads to Cowdrey. The etches on rocks make a mind go cross, makes a man turn and look at the weather. And whither it’s right there’s a ghost by my side, a friend I lost three years ago come November. I’m serious now, my mind naked and how, I am telling the whole world my secrets. About things that are real, just hidden distilled by the unlawful code of nature. So here it is now the thin truth of how, I met life, and made it on over.
The trail is old, barely hidden by gold of the high weeds, and dry grasses of autumn. An occasional tree that looks dead with leaves, throws shade across those that walk under. The whispers of old, from something wild, I don’t know, makes me think something comes this way different. I walk on alone, well your never alone, at least some sprites bend to my ear and whisper. But on up ahead where the trail ends at a mill stead, and the wind stops teasing my bare shoulders. For here you see in 1903, Potter Steel thought his own life was over. He was ill and diseased to a cancerous degree, and he’s come to the mountains for closure.
I’d like to see him, the way others do, a real apparition, that glows in wisdom. But strange this day, he doesn’t look that way, why actually he looks discontented.
What’s happened here, the thunder draws near, a sound that mimics nature screaming.
Well it is August, but October’s here, this trail of the twisting, the prospector’s tears. The day is suddenly gray, Mr. Sun grows cold, he has gone away. He has gone away! I guess I’d have to say, this witch’s trail leads the way, from 1903 to here, the truth of the matter is clear. The trail of the Potter hides secrets resigned, healing herbs cooking by witch’s design. And maybe it’s just a trail, “Semita Veneficas” from those who cannot tell what they’ve seen, when they reach the murky water of the stream. For on that day in 1903, Potter Steel made his ill body believe, it’s twin self-came to life. No cancer there, incarnate divine. The fountain of youth laying inside a stream. “Semita Veneficas” what a dream. I think it’s so real, from what I have seen.
The place in my mind is featured as real, as the day I went down it in August.
The Witches Trail is known to locals on the high plateau that borders the Old Roach Ghost Town, near Cowdrey, Colorado. Potters trail makes for a wonderful hike there. Some say that Prospector Potter Steel diseased with cancer, discovered his familiar there in the water of youth, in 1903. I would say that familiar still is there! – 10.24.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל