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.
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