the road between here and there
is familiar; we’ve taken it so many times
the car could drive itself, as they say —
we’ve come this way so often
I no longer think in the chapter
and verse of exit signs . . .
instead, I mark our progress
by landmarks — mostly song, food,
and fuel: what it takes to keep going
some time this morning we passed
halfway without much fanfare, except
for Joni singing about cutting down trees —
for now that’s as close as I can get
to carols; i sing along and trust the road
and the stars that call my heart
like a homing beacon; I don’t feel much
like a wise man, but I know this
is the road between here and there
paved with stories and sorrows,
the climbing way we know all to well . . .
oh, my — look at all the stars
Peace
Milton
Milton,
Remarkable. Joni is a good singer for Advent, I think. This road is getting too bumpy, too rocky. I’m walking and stumbling every now and then on sorrowful stories. Man, this is a long hike, but I have made it faster than I imagined. I wonder what is just around the bend?