The path that curves to mystery may not be seen from here
A shaded bower hides from view a future cloaked in fear
Along the way a vision of the world in pieces still
A mourning dove in silent perch observing all I will
In quiet contemplation of my walk on gravel small
Review my steps and coo her cheer to trav’lers one and all
The rocky crag, the towering oak, the crystal lake serene
Maintain their overview of all the places I have been
A yellow field of wildflow’rs, a distant barn of red.
A deep cerulean canopy expands above my head.
Through varied turns, an overgrowth of vines enclose the space
A camouflaged reality escaping my embrace.
What lies beyond I do not know, the journey is not clear
The destination beckons me beyond a month or year
Yet halting steps into the dark, there suddenly will be
A far-off mountain range in blue with striking clarity
I may not see a juncture ‘tween the mountain and my feet
But God who curves the path can circumspect the two to meet.