Thoughts know the roads around their home,
Often forgetting their offspring have flown,
To fledgling nests in infant trees
Blown back, shown back, homing on the breeze.

Those paths muddied on the wetter days,
Can wrong foot you in the summer haze.
Deciding to be decisive is a decision,
If action can be seduced by the vision.

So find new sanctuaries in your memory,
To change the tune, start with the melody.
A rut is just a groove where the music’s departed,
So if you need to move then just get started.