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Hiking In

By Dixie Partridge / November 8, 1994

Midweek, no one on the trail.

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You are observed

by draped vine and low fern, a continuous dreaming

among moss-hung branches, sky

and forest joined above you

like the whole fabric of memory.

Hours without speaking, until

from the uneven dark you have carried

energies of mind and body make a bright leap

toward balance....

Shadows that yesterday moved

as if deep in sedition, and straightened

with sudden alarm

at the shifting of light,

today glide a smooth pace.

Through moments of rest they wait with you,

more still than still water,

until you are ready to move on.