The coursing river of foot-traveled trail
flows northward through valley and vale.
Boulders and stones and their smaller pebble-friends
live here among the grasses and the ferns and the fens.
Bulky stones, and flat ones too, jut upward from far beneath.
Slyly they talk and plan ways to catch or trip feet.
Friends they have (of the Cedar sort) with sweet-smelling trunks;
reaching into, then back from, underground; weaving a wooden root-maze, partially sunk.
At times wet and muddy and at times not at all;
the trail has no preference, whether Spring or Fall.
Welcome to this place. Come, walk, run, and play.
But it’s more than a winding wooded road. It’s a Temple in which to pray.
Blue blaze on tree and stone guides pilgrims, young and old,
on a trail headed further north—Superior and bold.
anthony forrest
