From Deep Roots: Trespassing



A word from Curt
A word from Curt








During July our oldest son Clay and his wife Robin have been visiting.

Best of all, they’re brought  their four children.

Our wonderful grandchildren: Maggie, Luke, Jude, and Noah.

We’ve not hugged them since January 2013.

DeDe and I plan to make up for that during their visit.

I plan on being a full-time grandpa while they’re here.

We’ll be posting stories from my favorite Creekbank book,  Deep Roots.

We hope you’ll enjoy these short stories posted on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

Thank you for the privilege of sharing with you.



Learn more about Deep Roots at











I don’t consider myself a poet, but recorded this on my iPhone voice memos during a recent hike of the Wild Azalea Trail. This thirty-mile hiking path extends through Kisatchie National Forest near Woodworth, Louisiana.


He sees me about the same time I see him.

And I’m trespassing.

Trespassing on his land.

He knows it, and so do I.

All that’s behind me is a bridge and creek

I can’t go back.

So I watch him carefully.

As I  step around him and his web.

The biggest garden spider I’ve ever seen.

With a web worthy of his size,

stretching across the trail.

I could destroy his web, and charge on through.

But I’ve learned to be respectful on someone else’s land.

So with a tip of my hat, I ease around.

As the sun reflects off his yellow and black abdomen.

And I wish him well

As this trespasser hurries down the trail.

And I hope he does the same for me.

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