Half way to habit,
half way to
too late
to turn
back around.
This is where
we double
the expectations
just to accept
the weight of
failing
falling
finding
a rhythm
you might not
understand.
The world needs
all kinds
of rhythms –
rain on pavement,
rain on leaves.
This trail
may not
come out
where you expect.
It may be thick
with cedar branches
that reach
like they will grab you
and you may have to
step over
the horse dung.
You may come out
onto gravel roads
where they have dumped
old fences and furniture,
and you may want
to turn around
or find
another trail.
One part of you
steps through
scotchbroom
while the other
listens
for the road.
