Dreams of a river
Full of trout,
And an alpine summit
Without a route;
Of slippery slopes
All clad in ice,
And trail suppers served
Without any rice;
There’s alpine tundra
Filled with flowers,
Lonely mountaintops
With red rocky towers;
Huge herds of Bison
Shake the ground,
And Mule Deer run
Without a sound;
A strong wind answers
With silent breath,
The persistent questions
Of life and death;
Bull Elk bugle
Their signalling call,
While Aspens brighten
A mountain fall;
There are spongy hummocks
Of wetland grass,
And clear blue lakes
As smooth as glass;
The horizon’s filled
With massive peaks,
Snow-melt fills
A maze of creeks;
Unknown trails
Are everywhere,
I wonder which
Will take me there;
There are boulder fields
And talus slopes,
Berry vines
And climbing ropes;
Happy faces
Wide open spaces,
A lot of places
With few human traces;
I open my eyes
And step back onto the trail.
I breathe in deep;
Choose where I’m going;
Smile; and exhale.
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