One Possible Answer by Alan Gann

Neither frightened nor amused walking through the wild forest trail winding its inevitable way toward the black water I do not know how many furlongs or unseen deer will spy my passage how many meadows— poppy and paintbrush and clover how many clear streams sunfish swimming beneath tiny waterfalls. I will see sparrow and jay and ubiquitous mockingbird squirrel and maybe a bobcat a coyote or two— perhaps a heron will unfold prayerful wings and rise from the swamp a hunting kestrel will hover then dive. What better thing than to wander and be astonished? Having walked my allotted miles and reached the dark river I will not look at these hands and ask what have you accomplished or where have you been or even were you grateful. Neither amused nor frightened I will reach into worn pockets and find I have saved exactly two pennies— that the boatman’s open palm is warm and welcoming.

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