Down

Which way is down?
The path is no longer
so obvious, like in the
heady days of youth,
when all routes were
plainly marked, and “up”
was the only trail worth
pursuing with vigour.

“Down” should be conspicuous,
but I cannot seem to find
the way so well. Perhaps
the lack of signs confuses me,
or the way the light plays
tricks on these old eyes?
Maybe I’m just not so keen
to find this subtle path.

In any case, I stumble on,
sometimes clearly climbing,
sometimes on level ground;
at others I descend with
aching knees, making my
way Homeward through a
course of trial and error
and the longing of my heart.