The Trail Poem by Lee Crowell

When I was ten I wanted to comprehend everything in my world
on Sundays I was told not to steal, lie, or lust for women
those mornings were the worst of the week

at twenty I was certain it was just a matter of time before I would take grasp of the precious things
and I believed the preachers were different than me

when I was forty I felt if I had made some slightly different moves
I would have won the game

at fifty-five I no longer have a taste for the grand luxuries
i can be thrilled with a tall glass of ice water
or an idea
there is a spirit that shows me a path
I follow and don't mention it to anyone