The path and the way
The ways the deer take are so clear and quiet feeling.
That’s the way I go.
I aimed for the river,
Found the way,
Hearing the water.
Now to back track and make a path out of this experience,
Discovering how a path makes itself known.
Up the hill I discover this huge stone under the leaves
My path goes around it
Fallen trees help guide the way.
A root seat waited along the high banked stream
My feet rest on the large stone
the water moves across.
Clean water from the earth
is a wonder.
One day I found a Virginia version of the Steintheater in Hellbrun
A silent place for worship not entertainment.
The old wire fence line is down
It crosses my path and makes a great jumping point.
Delighting the kid in me,
It always makes me smile.
Each day I go a little further
Or I just retrace the steps from the day before.
I love how I forget and remember and discover my way.
An orange hat is probably a good idea, or my red-orange scarf.
I really don’t want to be mistaken for a deer.
It is hunting season.
I am hunting my path but with a different kind of aim,
The hunted deer gifted itself to the Indian hunter.
The hunter always said thank you.
A path through the woods to the river
and everything that comes and goes on the way
Are what I am gifted with.
I cannot stop saying thank you.
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