"Your rod"

(Composed on May 18,
Victoria Day 2009).

Swinging his stick back and forth
Over the line 'tween grass and cement,
Clicking his cane in a series of taps,
Testing the surface, measuring its expanse.

His eyes do not assist in his journey,
Nevertheless able to see the way,
With his trusted rod at his side,
Observing the distinct textures, he remains
On the constant and unchanging path.

With his staff ever-moving,
Searching, testing and trying,
Leading the way home,
He need not fear.

A telephone poll ahead,
An electric box grow near,
Yet his rod warms of danger, and,
Though he approaches obstacles,
He is not overcome.

The future, as a dim haze,
Wrong often seems right.
My eyes are unable to see.
Ever-clinging to the Word of life--
Your rod and my staff--
Might I not wholly lose my way!