A path is a conversation
Between the walker and the ground
It occurred to me
On the way down from the hill that day
Late on, in the gathering dark.
We’re not lost, no -
Not as long as we hold on to the thread of the stream
It’s comforting rush
Eventually we must hit the path
And then the bridge
And then the metalled road home.
Just keep listening
To what the ground is telling you
And let your replies
Be in the form of steps not jumps
Don’t predict, don’t interrupt and above all