The End of the Trail

But now that we’ve decided, breathed into a plan 

No cell service.

No one home at the house across the street.

Not so sure we should wander to the trailers down the hill

No service up the hill under the power lines either.

A quick decision as I hear the truck rounding the bend 

To stick out a thumb and point at the phone and get a ride 

With the nicest of men

To the apple store that no does not sell computers.

Where there’s a phone and someone coming to shuttle us 

And the nicest of young men who found home here 

In the mountains where his grandfather lives

Who had moved to L.A. to learn home was not there

Where people gawked and wondered 

How he survived out there back East in the woods

Where you needed to chop your own wood and grow your own food. 

No that was not survival he realized, this was home.

Survival was what he needed there in the city.  

He pulls the rocking chair out onto the porch and a spot in the sun.  

I had no idea how tired I was until I sat and stopped.  

The old Chevy pulls in and the old man steps out

Thinks I’m sitting out here selling apples

Instead of a weary hiker off the trail

I wish I felt like walking again the old man says as he hobbles away 

Now I can barely stand up.

Looking down the road listening for the shuttle 

Wondering where the road leads

And when the planet started to die

Of what can no longer be saved 

And now needs to be grieved

Of what we can’t stop doing and what we now must  

And home. 

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