The Trail can be trusted.
It has never let me down.
It’s led me across streams,
across the saddles of hills,
threaded through stands of trees,
blazed and reassuring.
I can always trust the good Trail
beyond even the need for trust.
The farther I go, the deeper-in to holy forest,
more the good and silent air surrounds me.
A benediction of March wind whispers through high tree tops
as my shoes kick through November’s leaves
and step smartly over outcrops of ledge
walking toward the center where I can clearly hear,
"What may lie outside the Trail head and down the road a bit
will never encroach upon
good and trusted Trail."