Perambulation

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Now the path is easy going, broad enough and smooth,
only a random root or rock rises from the stepworn
forrest trail.
While birds talk, this man walks
These grateful eyes love tree trunks seen and summer
shade over and under and forevergreen!
While beautiful unseen birds talk, this man walks
Feet and arms and legs just swinging, for no conscious
cause all life is singing!
While gregarious birds converse this contented man
ambles along
Abrupt, ahead, the trail dead ends up a hill going in
where dense briarbrush and thornythistle vines entwine
to take it over again.
While bird talk stills, this man stops
Where did I turn wrong? Which way is the way?
Can I trace the trail home by the end of the day?
My trusty tree trunks are now smothered in gloom and
clouds wipe the smile from the face of the moon.
While night birds cry, this man's hope dies
Dawns a thought (just like we were taught) that perhaps
I should pray when doubt causes pause then fear fogs
the way. So, drawing a deep buddha breath and taking
one-step-at-a-time that impervious dead end becomes
just a sharp bend, life's strife divine rhyme sublime.

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