The Journey
Birds pluck worms from the grass
And then leap and fly,
Watching over as I rest.
The trees whisper and laugh
As I trudge on by,
On to the next and the next.
Hedges grow tall and thick,
Snag me as I pass
But never shorten my steps.
The path narrows and splits
And seasons change fast,
On to the next and the next.
There is heart in this clearing
So I slip away,
Feeling it in my chest.
The sun is warm and healing,
Facing the new day.
On to the next, and the next.
~Willow Craven