the gift
Bev Geddes
“Sometimes, it is the guide we cannot see
Who has the greatest power to heal.”
“I am lost.”
I took the wrong fork on the trail I was hiking. No, that was wrong. I had chosen to step off the main trail. I came upon a tiny path, wedged between two crumbling stumps furred with moss, and had been intrigued. Where did the path, no more than a rabbit or deer trail, lead?
It twisted through the forest, beckoning, as it slipped through ponds of green fern and tumbled raspberry cane. Insects chirred in their hidden places and the sun played with the leaves, tickling them into movement. I pulled in a deep breath of pine, papery birch, and the loamy scent of decay and rebirth. The knot in my shoulders loosened, and the weight I carried lightened for the briefest of moments.
