The Trail

Prairie grasses swishing,
Pioneers wishing--
Wishing for the end,
The end of the trail.
Fearing the send--
The send of the gale.
Eyes upward turned,
Lessons well-learned,
The sky darkening in the west,
They've got to do their best.
Roaring, wailing,
Storing, veiling,
Nothing seems safe
From its clutches.
And then the sun,
Bursts out in the sky,
And we stood, 
Hand-in-hand you and I.
The danger was past,
One of many dangers,
Just like the Beginning,
Of the baby in the manger.
The sun high in the sky,
Warmth swarms upon the land,
This isn't our last stand,
Hand-in-hand you and I.


~Storyteller