We walk in the woods so often here,
that the sky is bordered by bare branches
and cedar boughs.
Micah and I walked past the puddles
where the main trail crosses the cedar swamp.
We walked up to the ridge,
to get a glimpse of the deep blue lake on the world's edge.
And then we sidestepped,
like two mountain goats,
down a steep hill to the Moss Trail
that runs in the valley
along the eastern edge of the cedar swamp.
We knew that a great Artist had hiked through before us.
The evidence was everywhere.
Our circuit brought us back to the place where the trail crosses the swamp.
We paused there, while the crows,
the guardians of this small forest,
bid us farewell with their strong, insistent chorus.
Where ever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you joy.
Tomorrow's prompt is "Youth."