To the Weary Traveler

If ever you should find yourself Lost upon the craggy, mud-strewn trail Matchless, mapless, The cloak of sky above you lacking a button of moon And leaking through, Sack nibbled to the crumbs And drink drained dry-- If ever nature-nipped feet Deem you mishap your way to me, Mistake me never for your guide. I am just as damned, just as far astray. But equally so hapless or no, I will pat the empty space beside me And pour half of my canteen into your cup, and Offer up what's left of the stew And if you help carry the wood, I've got some sticks to rub to keep us warm. We can pass the nights in tent, Time by swapping stories, every tale another Skin we shed. And as we make our way, I'll be the arm that pulls you to your footing When the pathway gets too steep And lend my chewed-through blue umbrella To ease the onslaught when it pours. And if the path we know is set in stone To walk the road unpaved, I'd take it stride for stride with you Over the macadamized Any day; For what it's worth.