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elachee "hobbit trails"/lake trailsI played Sunday.

After church I exchanged jackets, shoes, and socks
in my car for sturdier fare then drove to the soggy foggy Hobbit trails.

Along the leaf strewn red clay path
I skipped
and ran a bit 
after a trail runner
who had scared me out of my thoughts
and into new ones.

I bent low 
to look more closely 
at leaves
 moss
frilly fungi
churned up streams
litter
trail.
elachee spider web and rain


I decided how I'd returnto the trails 

to play in the creeks
and avoid 
snakes
and ticks
and errant hunters.

I imagined
ancient ones
creeping silently 
along the way
but not the path;
over there behind that massive rock
hidden by trees
and surprise.

We'd be friends
I hope 
if we were to ever meet.
Share our breadreflections of a prayerful playful hike at elachee

fire
stories

songs
dances

and winter berries.

The after-brunch conversation
of a chattering 
chasing 
squirrel
and a tiny finch-like bird
that winged
and loopy-de-looped
past my 
astonished
eyes.

I heard bullfrogs and warblers
croaking
and…warbling.


Rain tappity-tapping
on a million 
winter-withered leaves
and the soothing
tumbling 
of a few bumbling brooks.

I met a few dogs
And a few more people
This hardy bunch
of Sunday
Wayfarers.

I played
and dreamed
and imagined
and sniffled
and sang a little song
quietly to myself
while I poked a stick 
into a sleeping hole-home
along the bank
and later pretended to be

a mountain goat
leaping from stone to stone.

I left damp
A little dog-soggy
and happy
filled
tired
prayer-filled
and reverent
"thank you. thank you. thank you, lord."
after a few Sabbath day hours
along a rain-soaked
fog drippy
Hobbit Trails of Elachee.

At 44
I played
along a road
less traveled
and explored.
And it made all the difference.

3 responses to “The play is the thing”