Summary: A creative reflection on keeping the heart of an idea intact while giving it more than one form, and on steady progress without rushing or crowding other work.

One road goes winding by the olive tree,
One follows stones beside the open sea.
They meet beneath the same familiar roof,
Two ways of coming home, one simple truth.

We packed the bread and left the garden gate,
The afternoon was wide enough to wait.
No need to chase the footsteps just ahead,
The day could hear the softer things we said.

Take the long way, take the slow,
Keep the little tune you know.
Though the hills may change the view,
What we carry carries through.

A song can wear a coat of summer blue,
Or wrap itself in rain and still be true.
The voice may travel farther than the hand,
Yet bring the same small kindness when we land.

We let the passing cart go on its way,
And found a shaded place where we could stay.
The world was not a race we had to win,
There was another road to wander in.

Take the long way, take the slow,
Keep the little tune you know.
Though the hills may change the view,
What we carry carries through.

When both our roads arrive beside the door,
We set the bread upon the table once more.
The tune comes softly underneath the rain,
And all the ways of home become the same.