Evening at Mounds State Park 

Some days you are lost
in the confinement of your room
where everything
is mass-produced and tidy
and you sit on the edge of your evening bed
wondering if you should get in
and pull the covers up
over all your unanswered questions
or if you should lace up your boots
and get in the car to go hike trail 5
by the light of the moon—
And you know you made the right choice
when the path seems to welcome you
with a glowing ribbon of snow
escorting you down to the White River,
which will offer you its earnest council—
and the sycamores will listen
to anything you have to say
and without judgment they will point out
with their crystal arms
all the options you’ve been forgetting—
and you will stay until the raccoons 
politely kick you out with a nut to the head
and by then you will be able to return
to your room where you will sleep easier
after having found a few of those
obscure and elusive answers.






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