Holy Ground

listening to music that makes me want to go out hiking
in the heat of the day
along dry streams where flies buzz and spiders dangle,
feeling the occasional cool pocket
of breath
along the stream bed–
feeling the sun slant through still, still branches,
going sometimes blind
studying the rocks to find the surest footing
along an uncertain path,
by holding onto trees who’ve known every one of these rocks
for much longer than i have–
steering my course up along this empty waterway
with no destination in mind,
glad to have
a plain direction–

feeling in the roughness of the wilderness,
the holiness of the ground

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