Somehow this trail
has become a heartpath,
winding, root-lined,
ever-changing, familiar
place of pilgrimage,
where year after year
I bring whatever is left of me
to walk in wonder,
pausing to look at landscapes
I know like I know
my own hands, like I know
the misty mountains
traversed in my dreams,
like I know my heart’s
rhythm, like I know
these lines as they unwind
slowly, finding their way
through thick forest.
©2025 Jim Magaw
