THE TRAILHEAD

gladys1

Sentinels stand o’er the path
Through forests deep and green;
Tall and straight they reach the sky
Majestic and serene.

Watchmen of the way ahead
Jealous guard secrets kept;
Those who pass must reverent be
They whisper in hushed tones.

Fir and spruce and hemlock stand
‘Bove pathway lain below;
Arms reach out and beckon all
Pilgrims who’ll deference show.

Lush dense veils of undergrowth
Shroud farther views ahead;
Yet this path embarked upon
Yields fruit of heaven’s kind.

This path spied so guarded well,
Invites my heart to dream
Of adventure and repose
Midst glorious heights unseen.

So approaching in awed reverence
Beseeching passage through;
Stepping with solicitude
Traversing mor and glen.

Donning pack I bid adieu
And forge ahead with care;
Joyful spirit of the wild
Lead to thy scenes most fair!

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