Touch the ground with both your feet.
Feel the rhythm calmly beat.
Even through the rock and grass,
A heartbeat faintly rumbles.
Persistent pulsing
Soft, but lively.
Listen closely,
Answer wisely.
There are times it talks with words of thunder,
Howling winds, or crashing wonder.
But it’s mostly through peaceful silent breaths
That it tells its awesome tale.
Let it pull you with its rope,
And fill you up with hope.
Though you may not know the words,
It will magnify your scope.
Hear the music with your eyes,
See the clouds across the skies.
Bask in rays of winter sunshine,
And watch as waves approach the shoreline.
It is…
Star-filled nights and crispy mornings,
Tornado funnels without warnings.
Rolling dunes of glassy sand,
Forgotten places beyond man’s hand.
Gentle streams and roaring rivers,
Monstrous cliffs that give you shivers.
Fields of tundra filled with flowers,
Afternoons consumed with showers.
Rock towers covered with Bighorn Sheep,
Canyon walls so very steep.
Ocean trenches mighty deep,
Sights and sounds that make you weep.
Mountain crags and endless deserts,
Places thriving on the outskirts.
Caves reaching ever inward,
Jungles vast and still unhindered.
So many chapters in the story,
Sometimes gloom, but always glory.
So, touch the ground beneath your feet,
And feel the rhythm calmly beat.
Ryan had never bonked before, at least in the metabolic shock/ overexertion sense of the word. When he started to bumble around and lose more and more of his edge, I knew that something was up and figured that’s what had happened. Not realizing what was going on, he kept on trying to mountain bike further up the Colorado Trail, although with diminishing returns. The big patches of snow that remained on the trail, even though it was June, were probably a good thing since they ultimately turned us all around. His disrupted mental and physical state likely made the retreat more palatable to the 13-year-old, since he wasn’t one to be prone to turn around before his goal was reached.
The wilderness welcomes with whispers and wind,
Vast deserts, huge mountains,
And forests unthinned.
A place where rainstorms, blizzards, and droughts,
Coexist with the fog,
The clear skies, and mist.
It beckons and hides,
Lures and derides.
It comes and goes,
Just like the tides.
It conceals vast treasures,
But opens its arms,
To all who would seek them
And sounds no alarms.
Constantly changing.
Extreme to serene.
From wildfire and thunder,
To calm and wonder.
It comes in all shapes
And in many sizes.
Its horizons expansive
And full of surprises.
Even though
Many folks never go
To lands faraway and wild.
It’s good to know
They still exist.
That frontiers yet persist.
Whether you hike into such places
With your body or your mind,
Rejoice in the magic that there you’ll surely find.
As you immerse yourself in its wonder,
Take a moment to relish and ponder.
And don’t try to make it better,
Nature’s working on those tasks.
Just leave it like it is,
That’s all it ever asks.
No matter how big the face,
Or how full your plate,
When you climb onto the rock,
A new realm you’ll unlock.
The world suddenly shrinks,
To nine square feet.
Living in the moment,
Is truly a treat.
No worries about what tomorrow will bring,
Cause your future rests solely on what you can cling.
The past is a jumble,
Most problems have gone.
What most concerns you,
Is what to step on.
The cracks are for the hands and feet,
And jams are mostly for arms and fists.
A pocketed face looks mighty good,
And a chimney’s for climbing and not for wood.
While getting to the top may be the goal,
Even the holds within reach could be beyond your control.
If you can’t make the next move,
And are stuck in one place,
The top no longer matters,
And a new goal you’ll then chase.
If you try while you’re climbing to think worldly thoughts,
The vision you conjure may be of knots.
But when you make a move forward and stand up on a nub,
The moment will win,
And you’ll understand then.
You must be logged in to post a comment.