Today I found the path
she had so long worked to clear
swallowed up by prairie grasses.
I’d watched her
felling trees and grinding stumps,
cleaving roots and rolling earth,
clearing sticks with every step
until the way for us
lay unobstructed.
Then I stumbled on a twig
she hadn’t noticed
that I had dropped along the way
as men will do.
Today I know she’s smiling still,
working on another trail,
finding comfort in the promise
loving preparation brings,
a path immune to man’s obstructions,
no less fine for incompletion.