I go walking up a backcountry road
and for ten minutes, a crow flies above
and before me, resting in trees along the way,
as if showing me the way to go.
Someone has made smiley faces out of pebbles
and left them on many large flat stones.
And the orange jeep that passes me
pulls a U turn and Trevor jumps out
and says, “I just wanted to hug you.”
If I knew only this hour, it would be easy
to believe the world is only good.
But I carry in me the certainty
that rupture is part of the whole.
I know cruelty lives in us all.
I know, too, the white truck slowed down
when it passed me, as if the driver said,
walker, I will make sure you feel safe.
I know when I turned not just out but in,
I felt such genuine love for the world.
That love was the strongest proof of all.