There is a trail behind my home

In the forest where the wild things roam

Deer and turkey; ‘coons and bears all walk the sheltered arbors there

And I, myself, oft take delight

To stroll those paths in dappled light

I think at times it’s good for me to walk alone amidst those trees

‘Til evening comes, and shadows grow, then once more to home I go

I fancy I, and I alone

Cleared that trace of root and stone

Trimmed the boughs, and cut the trees, and raked it clean of sticks and leaves

Yet in truth the trail’s not mine

It was there before my time

A farmer, yes, and ere he came, perhaps an Indian, hunting game

Did blaze the trail that I now tread; and before them, deer did walk instead

Trail’s end yields to rolling hills

Fields of hay and daffodils

Mountains, silent sentinels stand, beyond the farms and grazing lands

They were here before I came

And they’ll be here when I’m gone again

A carved stone bench, it waits for me, beneath a copse of walnut trees

And stopping there, I meditate, on what good things did God create

There is a trail behind my home

In the forest where the wild things roam

Some day after I’m long gone, I hope new owners come along

Who’ll keep the trail that I loved well

And take the time to sit a spell

Or swing the hammock to and fro just as I did long ago

‘Til evening comes, and shadows grow, then once more to home they’ll go