This Road is Flawed

This road is flawed! I told its maker,
Too steep! Too long! Too twisted ‘round!
I make no headway, find no purchase.
I trip too much, keep falling down!

Can I not have a little respite?
A chance to sit and calm my soul?
A scene to view in awesome wonder?
A seed of hope to plant, to grow?

Ah! There! A rock, though sparsely shaded,
A place to rest my weary bones.
And there! A stream, though somewhat clouded
Can ease my thirst so far from home.

So little, yet so very welcomed,
I take the gifts and settle down.
I face the mountain still before me
With pinecones scattered on the ground

Under trees that cling, undeterred
By their steep, precarious hold,
Their roots enough to keep them reaching,
Their hope enough to help them grow.

A rustle in the limbs above me…
Another cone lands at my feet
On needles thick and soft as feathers,
And on my brow, a cooling breeze

Helps me to see this is no Eden
Yet Heaven does feel close at hand.
Perhaps that’s all I’m meant to notice,
And as I climb, I’ll understand.