each trail we amble upon in our seasons of life
lead upwards—into lofts of softer times

rocks echo bird songs tangled in winds
leaves filter the sunlight in untasted airs
waters tickle locks of a meadow’s draped fur
lakes reflect shivering similes of silver clouds
switchbacks slash sharper than eagle talons
acute wildlife spy behind their obscuring
spars of heavy, defensive, and resolute pines
aspens quake in yellow drippings of sun
amber fallen leaves crunch like potato chips
dark polished stones gurgle—swallowed in narrow
throats of some timid and lonesome brook

oh, these holy—forested sanctums of peace—
praying for their own wisdom upon each of us
abducted within our bound—incarcerated spirits
we pound on—to solitary hermitages of green liberty
each warm nest interweaved—to cuddle and
repose our chained-up minds within their safety

open doors lead us into natural openhearted spas
greeting kind pathways that meander within
the enigmatic essence of a gray-haired mountain
behind dusty wakes of groaning rubber—
charcoal souled boots and fat knobbed tires—
our hopes awaken—to seep into renewed hearts
wearied backs soaked beneath careers of tedium
escape all their aches and shadows of despair
long partitioned corridors fade into heated pasts
and lists evaporate into a coolness of alpine clarity

baptized in the caressing dews of willows—
we emerge beneath an azure-blue atmosphere
redeemed once again—in a fresh ray of hope
to pump onward like ants—friends lined in dirt
these sacred trails guide us forward—etching us
into wildflower veils of a perfectly tuned harmony

so—what haunting green adventure winds ahead?
where will the curves of our mysteries lead us?
and what natural therapy do we long for?

restoration comes as we walk into its secret space
where trails give merciful whispers of tomorrow
and erase thoughtless words of yesterday