The path that leads
To the lake of the clouds
Is full of sticks and stones

Lined by aspen young and old
The wind moves through the forest
Like waves on an ocean of pine trees

My only companion
The sound of my own footsteps
On the same earth I walked as a child

We used to sit on stumps
Along the edge
Taking breaks to catch our breath

Dad would feed us trail mix
Eyes closed we’d try to guess
What morsel he’d fed us

He told us the same stories
All along the way
To keep our tired feet moving

Bear claws on a tree
Our picture rock
The old mine

Chapters in our made-up book

If I close my eyes
Deep breath in
It’s like I’m there again.