I have finally been able to get more time in the hills over the past week, something that was sorely needed. I took some liberties with imagination – I don’t have hiking boots. I wear hiking shoes. A second item – no old and bent stave. I use hiking poles. The rest is accurate.
The scattered stones shift
Beneath worn and faded boots
A barbed wire to lift
With a worn, old and bent stave
Carved long ago by callused hands
The wire now rusted by time
Its barbs still a threat
Complains in protest
Crossing the arbitrary line
Moving forward with a sigh, yet
Knowing there’s no time to rest
There is a place up ahead
Where I will lay my head
I take walks into the prairie hills as often as I can. Though the way seems barren to others, I have found surprises almost every journey I take. In the heat of a summer’s day, I have been known to find a boulder that serves as a resting place where I can meditate or simple rest.
The resting has nothing to do with physical tiredness. And the place isn’t necessarily on these prairie hills. There will be an end to my wandering, a time to hang up these dusty and faded boots.