Two days after an all-night rain, two elderly women are clambering up the path.
"It's a steep climb," I say.
"Yes," one replies."But my wife won't let me stop."

Her smile is a map of
how far they've come.

Signs: Broken twigs, green on the forest's floor.
Leaves like bouquets that haven't yet left home.
The odd shape of stones who spoke their mind.