Well Trod Path

I’ve spent my life taking
the path least familiar and
less traveled on five
continents, but a path
that is best cherished is
the well trod one through
the woods to my neighbors’
house.

About a hundreds yards or
more, whether in the summer
or any season, the path winds
through the woods to their
backdoor. I generally don’t
knock, but give a call of
“hello” and most times it is
a call back of, “Come on in.”

A glass of water or wine offered,
and if it’s around dinner, an extra
plate appears on the table.

If a tool is needed it’s there
in their shed or ours, readily
available.

This well trod path through the
woods so familiar and known
that even in the pitch black of
night we can find our way to each
other’s door.

* for Michael & Phyllis Gigante