The trail calls to me,
its grass-fringed part curving gently,
climbing upslope toward the trees,
the forest that hides hints of a future,
denying all hope of knowing what comes next.
the !n(tro)verted yogi
nomadic, poetic, and sometimes ascetic
The trail calls to me,
its grass-fringed part curving gently,
climbing upslope toward the trees,
the forest that hides hints of a future,
denying all hope of knowing what comes next.
I love this verse. There are some adventures that call out to a person. They won’t be denied.
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