Saturday, May 22, 2021

Of Least Resistance

Note: Thirty-four years ago, I began writing poetry. From time to time, generally between blog series, I like to share one with you. Today's poem I wrote just prior to finishing high school. I was contemplating life, what kind of man I would become, and the part doing the difficult thing would play in that. Stay tuned; a new blog series launches next week.


Of  Least  Resistance

The other day, while on a stroll
I spied a rippling brook
Where tender little trout and perch
Await the fisher's hook

It coursed along, 'tween stones and things
Meandered here and there
Beneath a bridge, around a rock
Or made some tree roots bare

I turned upon a whim
Traversed its winding path
This laughing brook enchanted me
From scenes of former wrath

It gurgled merrily on
As if without a care
I followed it from stone to stone
We wandered here and there


Then 'midst the sunlight and the leaves
The pebbles and the trout
I realized what that guy had meant
When he was talking 'bout
The similarities between
Bad men and brooks, no doubt

He said one day, upon a chance
That which I'd pondered late
"The path of least resistance
Does not make rivers straight"

It makes them change their course
Avoid the rocks and trees
Wind in and out and back and forth
Like flights of bumblebees

And so it is with men
Who throughout days of life
Have chosen to avoid
The hardships and the strife

They wander here and there
Just like that little brook
The path of least resistance
Makes a man a crook

- by Tom Brennan
April 1, 1991



1 comment:

  1. Amen. You wrote this poem 3 months after I was born!

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