There are two ways
to get to my neighbour's next door
in Newfoundland.
Rather than go the smooth road
I always take the
crooked, uneven path
that joins our two homes
through the yard.
And every single time that I do,
I think of the days
on that island
when every visit between
friends and neighbours and families
was travelled
that way.
You choose where you step carefully -
there is not a foot of even ground.
It's sloping
and a little rocky
and some days a little boggy.
It winds along side the clothesline.
Not as worn as I'm sure it once was,
when the feet
of the dear souls that I have come to love
travelled it daily.
It's a sacred spot to me -
that path -
that island.
And to a farm girl
whose nearest neighbour is a bit of a walk,
it's such a great
delight
to pop next door.
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