Trails

When I was a very little girl my family went on a picnic at a huge park

There were magical, winding trails that led you by tiny cabins and fairies

It was a charmed and make-believe world and I was totally captivated

There were places where the signs said to tiptoe and I found it easy to obey

My parents must have let me go off alone, which meant it was not far from them

But I felt all alone in the universe and enthralled beyond words, I needed none.

At a bend I was tiptoeing, having read the sign, and then glanced up at a house

The lady who lived there was looking out the window and smiling at me

Years later I had to think that I was likely a cute little sight, brown ringlets

Elated  grin, eyes alight with enjoyment, unfettered glee in just “being”

I was surprised to find someone actually living in this enchanted forest

But it did not spoil my fascination with the fairies, imps and leprechauns.

Years later, I realize that I was born with this utter love for trails, forests

Any pathway, for me is and forever will be irresistible, enticing, necessary

I must ramble along it and find where it goes, what surprise is beyond…

Around the next curve there may be a bubbling spring or a tiny bridge

A doe or a buck or a fawn perched and ready to run, hesitating then

Because they feel no danger from me, only my utter love and delight

With the ways of the forest and of the animals who make their home

Amongst the kind, leaning trees that seem to whisper of magic.

cailin raine