Paths Worn Smooth by Alice Teeter
You walk this trail everyday: it's the track
you used to go visit your mother.
You’ve paced it so long that it’s slick,
smooth -- down in the valley easy to use.
You’ve marched it in your sleep.
But it's always been treacherous
full of drop-offs, boggy places
where you pick up huge clumps
of stones and mud on your shoes
that slow you to a standstill.
There's a weeping willow that whips you
when the wind is blowing hard
and that rock that juts out,
which you never see
and always hits you on the head.
You have other friends who live here
on this mountain. You'd like to find
a better road to visit them.
You tried different treks before.
It's hard to see the faint traces of those paths.
You see a blackberry bush before you
and remember this is where a new trail started.
Through sweet luscious berries and their thorns
you start uphill, push through the greenery,
spider webs, and brambles, to find another way.
