On the Trail to San Wileo

by Lisa Griffiths

They left Cordoba at dawn under clear skies
South across the land of the Mexican Plateau
Just the four of them, insignificant in size
But pilgrims nonetheless on the trail to San Wileo.
 
With the Sierra Madre Occidental to the west
Majestic views were seen throughout the day
Pine tree shade beckoned their troop to rest
“Not yet. El sol is leaving,” said José.
 
Turning east, they camped for the night
Among foxes, snakes, even armadillos
The flowering cacti were a beautiful sight
With sweet scents to tease the nose.
 
Joining the coyotes, the wind did howl
While the stars up above shown bright
Pilar was scared for pumas on the prowl
“I hope we make it safely through this night.”
 
They rose early to cross the arid land
Plantas de las rodadoras passed them by
Their feet now callused and covered in sand
“Keep going, almost there,” said Tomás with a sigh.
 
The heat behind them, they focused ahead
Sierra Madre Oriental stood grand in the east
“La Ventana and our patron saint,” Maria said,
“are waiting! Three more hours at least!”
 
With the sun at their backs they reached the town
Each body weary but with hope in the soul
Passing the peasants and searching around
For the pathway with a colored banner on a pole.
 
A sign that they were in the right place
Wending along and now so eager to go
A spring in José’s step and smile on his face
“Hurry, mis amigos, to the great San Wileo!”
 
Atop a high hill their saint did sit
His aura and presence could not be denied
Dark beard, simple clothes, lots of wit
Mixed with intelligence true and tried.
 
A rush of emotions, they fell to their knees
As the crickets sounded and the sky turned black
“Oh, San Wileo, answer our question please
Which should we choose: a PC or a Mac?”

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