Blue ribbons tied to green shrubs mark the trail,
assure my daughter that without the net
we won’t lose ourselves. Her mom won’t fail
to bring her safely home again, and yet…
at eleven, there’s more hesitation in her voice
when she asks the way. Less sure that I
have every answer. Her considered choice
to follow still, over the hill, so I try
harder to deserve her fledgling trust.
I don’t admit that I’m a little lost,
this book is such a mess. Should I just
abandon hope? Call it sunken cost?
No. Teach her this. One step, another one.
The path, the trail comes clear. Someday, the sun.
*****
July 29, 2018, Yosemite