i dream
of walking this long winding path
into the mountains.

moss and mildew
under foot, 
roots tucked and twisted
around stone 
and earth
and me.

i pass by trees,
withered and new,
eyes peering out,
limbs pointing

years ago
when my hair was white blonde
and my feet soft,
untouched by time,
by miles walked and run,
by distance,
my grandfather walked this trail with me.

but now the thin dirt trail
carves a different shape into the ground,
one i can not remember
and my grandfather will never know.

when i reach the summit,
past all life and lumber,
i stand on the sturdy rock
which reaches down 
into the soul of the earth.

and i breathe deeply,
for it is just me,
out on the edge,
and nothing left unsaid.