~

Sometimes, thanks to luck or Grace or the stars’ 

alignment, as you trudge through the dark woods

of life, defeated by the demons which

have scared and scarred you, stumbling over roots, 

clambering up crags, whacking your way through 

the pucker brush, slapping at blackflies, lost,

angry, afraid—you come to a clearing. 

Breezes blow away the bugs and sunbeams 

light a path of pine needles to a log

cabin and a porch and a rocking chair 

facing a blue bay dotted with islands,

and you sit and breathe the salt air, rocking,

loosening, loosing yourself in the light

dancing on the water, breathing, gazing,

feeling enfolded by you don’t know what

or for how long, until the journey calls.

Then, for a while at least, the trail is smooth.

Views get wider, demons get smaller.

You’re grateful to be on the road once more.

~