The winds blew dry whatever morning cares…
there had been.
Thus, a hike, had been ordered with the closest of friends.
Though strife becomes toil.
And, toil becomes the strife.
A gust will pull up and,
redefine what it is to live in a spotless mind.
Intervals of weather without sun.
And, many a broken branch.
It is so often the two footed traveler…
Finding themselves in a lethargic stance.
But not so of the obstinate and obedient friend.
So willing to lend ease to silence and refrain.
These are the days…indeed!
In which steadfast companions…remain.