Author: dcstecker

Hero’s Journey

,

Tested by the steep hill’s hike

In the sun’s heat of midday,

Then dismayed by the long tunnel’s darkness

— Shuffle walking and flashlight guided —

She pauses at tunnel’s end,

Hands-on-knees exhausted.

.

There stands the red door, her ninth this month,

Five steps up and then five more.

Regaining sufficient stamina,

She continues her ascent with fingers crossed.

She dreads a tenth disappointment,

But she’ll turn the knob just the same.

Regarding Wooded Journeys

.

Some paths turn this way and that and a few circle back.

For others the direction rarely varies much.

Some canopies let in some sun to dapple the pathway.

Others, thicker, lay down uninterrupted blanket-shade.

Some paths vanish abruptly, perhaps just past a bend.

Some go on and on, seemingly without end.

Synchrony

Each week, once the sheets are dry,

And I am on one side and my wife the other,

We remake the bed in harmony

As we slip on the pillowcases

And stretch the bottom sheet corners,

Then again as we tuck in the top sheet

And smooth the quilt,

And last as we fix the pillows at bed’s head

And center the knitted throw at its foot.

One might say that for a half-century and more

We have made our bed, and we lie in it still.