A Hiking Meditation
Standing at the foot of the trail
Wondering how long and steep.
Up and over hill and dale
Beginning at a rubble heap.
Far above at summit’s peak
from my vantage I behold
each tree and stone unique
in fields sunlit gold.
There is naught but to begin
As every journey does;
Going where before I’ve been
Impossible because now is.
Stepping carefully o’er the rubble heap
to reach the path behind
lest the ground my feet don’t keep
and the earth my body finds.
Wide at first the path ascends
though carpeted in poison oak,
it disappears round every bend
in the forest’s green baroque.
Narrower the path becomes
poison vines reach for me;
to itchy welts I won’t succumb
with God’s protection free.
Around each curve
more path appears.
With every new swerve,
hoof prints of deer.
Where deer ramble
in beautiful display,
mountain lions also amble
waiting patiently for prey.
But forward I must go
to find that sunlit peak.
Past every jeopardy below
with God’s support I sneak.
For there is no turnabout;
up is the only direction.
Worthwhile is the route,
when the reward is God’s perfection
