Every wilderness journey
Another footprint unknown
Tomorrow always uncertain
Turning over each heavy stone
Lost among daylight’s darkness
With every tentative step
Smallest ember of light’s beacon
Finding vacant cabin’s doorstep
Door’s rusted hinges swing free
Waiting, barely hanging on
Vivid memories gather now
Warmly colored with worn crayons
Bushel of thoughts now arrive
Rekindled glow from fireplace
Yesterday no longer frozen
Gentleness cradles weathered face
Surrounded in breathless peace
Slumber’s cherished whisper calls
Weariness at last overcomes
Cuddled under nightly dream’s shawl
Big Sky Buckeye 
Just wonderful. The most personally evocative line? “Warmly colored with worn crayons.” Reading that, I suddenly both saw and smelled my old crayon box: a cigar box filled with bits of color — some with the paper wrappers gone.
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Linda, thank you for adding your own memory of well-worn crayons. I can remember one such collection at my maternal grandmother’s. An old coffee can held these crayons, which were used by many of her grandchildren.
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Great imagery of God being our refuge.
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Amen. Chris, blessings for adding your voice to this poem’s reflections.
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