As wide path gives way to twisting trail
through swatting branches and stinging nettles
and malevolent knots of vine and laurel
opening into stunning views
that rob the lungs
of breath itself
And at day’s end
with throbbing feet and aching backs
and phantom pack weight still yoked
on exhausted shoulders
We repose on luxuriant recliners of flat river stone
and remember distant memories
of beds and blankets and pillows
And It speaks.
You can read the entire poem here.