I headed to the creek to get a pot full of water.
And tripped on a root on my way back to camp.
I staggered and stumbled but didn’t fall,
Then dropped the pot and spilled it all.
Fetching Water
Category: Perspectives
Part of the View
I climb to a high place,
And savor the view,
So much to see,
My world seems anew.
Ground ripples below
Until it reaches a stream.
That’s flowing along
With water agleam.
Bright shiny reflection,
Small, but intense.
Catches my eye,
Creating suspense.
A big Douglas Fir,
Sways to and fro’.
Seems guarding something,
From what I don’t know.
Squirrel scampers across
A branch to my side.
It notices me,
And begins to chide.
The light moves on,
And the magnificent buck
That’s resting under a pine,
Looks more like a duck.
Out of the forest,
A trail comes forth.
Crosses below
And heads to the north.
Some animal runs,
Its movement a flash.
Then abruptly jumps into
The creek with a splash.
A rock falls from the cliff
Off to my right.
Its crash at the bottom
Creates quite a sight.
Above the horizon,
Beyond what I know,
Big mountains arise,
All capped in snow.
Where clouds meet the ground,
And land becomes sky.
The near disappears,
And far enters my eye.
Then, I realize,
That the things that I see.
Are simple, yet complex,
And all part of me.
Each time I gaze,
At the world all around.
The sights may be different,
But they always astound.
It’s heartening to know,
I have a role in the view.
I’m a cog in the world,
A part of the stew.
So, I stand up and turn,
Then go on my way.
Ready to face,
What comes as it may.
Audio Version:
Happy
Happy trails
And happy snails.
Happy whales
And happy tales.
Happy days
And happy craze.
Happy phrase
And happy stays.
Happy times
And happy chimes.
Happy climbs
And happy rhymes.
Happy sight
And happy night.
Happy light
And happy mite.
Happy spots
And happy dots.
Happy oughts
And happy thoughts.
Happy trail
And happy snail.
Happy whale
And happy tale.
Happy places
And happy faces.
Happy races
And happy spaces.
Happy talks
And happy walks.
Happy hawks
And happy squawks.
Happy sounds
And happy towns.
Happy bounds
And happy grounds.
Happy sights
And happy nights.
Happy lights
And happy mites.
Happy time
And happy chime.
Happy climb
And happy rhyme.
Happy songs
And happy throngs.
Happy Kongs
And happy wrongs.
Happy theres
And happy bears.
Happy wheres
And happy pairs.
Happy words
And happy nerds.
Happy birds
And happy herds.
Happy talk
And happy walk.
Happy hawk
And happy squawk.
Happy spot
And happy dot.
Happy ought
And happy thought.
Happy sappy
And happy yappy.
Happy snappy
And happy happy.
Audio Version:
The Long Way
Let’s take the long way back,
And cross the river ‘round the bend.
If our feet get wet,
We can dry ‘em in the wind.
There’s a trail down there
That no one knows about.
And it leads to a fishin’ hole
That’s full of big ‘ole trout.
Since we’ve got our poles,
We can wet a line.
If you don’t have any flies,
You can use some of mine.
Once we’ve had our fill of that
We’ll head into the trees,
To a big red rock
With a view that’ll bring ya’ to your knees.
From there, we’ll keep goin’
‘Till we reach the Highline Trail.
We’ll follow it across the meadow
Where I once got caught by hail.
Just on past that meadow, there’s a gully
Full of berries of some unknown type.
I don’t know much about ‘em,
‘Cept they taste good and should be ripe.
We’ll fill our bellies there
And when we’ve had our fill,
Head into some Aspens
And move on up the hill.
Our path will pass
By old cabins and mines.
And once up high,
There are Bristlecone Pines.
There’s a good sittin’ spot at the top,
Where we can take a break.
No doubt we’ll need to rest when we get there,
Since our legs will surely ache.
Then, we’ll walk along the treeline,
With the treetops down below.
Huge mountains fill that skyline
And the wildflowers steal the show.
As we walk along the tundra,
The lack of noise will astound.
There may be wind, or planes, or talk,
But the silence is profound.
Soon, we’ll reach the spot
Where the trail begins to drop
After passing through black timber,
We’ll reach the valley where we’ll stop.
Another river fills that valley,
And we’ll round another bend.
We’ll wade into the stream
And take the long way once again.
Audio Version:
Inside a Bolivian Mine
My wife, Lori, and I ended up in Potosí during the last part of our Bolivian vacation. After considering various activities around the city, we selected the “mine tour” option. The city is over 200 miles south of La Paz, the capital city. At 13,400 feet of elevation, it’s one of the world’s highest cities. And as we found out, it’s dominated by a large mountain called Cerro Rico, which has been mined for silver regularly since Spanish rule.
Showtime
See the face
In clouds that race
Across the sky
Into your eye.
Feel the touch
Of ground and such.
Of rocks and sand
And unknown land.
Hear the quiet
Of ants that riot,
Rocks that hum,
And falling crumb.
Smell the rain,
The ripened grain,
Unbridled mare,
And newborn air.
Taste the dust
And gulp the gust.
Drink dripping ice.
Make dirt your spice.
Chew the fat.
Watch the gnat.
Touch the grime,
And yucky slime.
Feed the campfire,
Avoid the briar,
Ski the scree,
Don’t squish a flea
Sit and ponder,
Look and wander.
Always more to know
In nature’s show.
Audio Version:
Rich
Count your wealth
In soaring trees,
Dunes of sand,
And sprawling seas.
In Limestone rocks,
Granite faces,
Grassy meadows,
And open spaces.
In thorny cactus,
Whitetail Deer,
Rolling plains,
And rivers clear.
In moonlit nights,
Gentle snows,
Trails of dirt,
And cawing crows.
In Bison herds,
Buzzing bees,
Starry nights,
And cooling breeze.
In boulder fields,
First raindrops,
Boggy creeks,
And mountain tops.
In waterfalls,
Cedar breaks,
Grizzly Bears.
And big snowflakes.
In gurgling springs,
Hungry snakes,
Wild raspberries,
And alpine lakes.
In Aspen groves,
Wild mountain honey.
Spring wildflowers,
And days all sunny.
In vast pine forests,
Pecan bottoms,
Briar patches,
And colorful autumns.
So count your blessings
Not your gold.
Nature’s rich,
“Look, behold.”
Audio Version:
So Much Beautiful
The Sun rises.
It brings light
And warmth with it.
A violent thunderstorm
Heads on to the east
And a double rainbow
Forms where it used to be.
Eight buzzards catch an updraft
And soar effortlessly
Above the valley.
A young family piles into their car
And heads to town
For donuts.
The Herefords stop grazing.
They turn their butts into the wind,
Face the sun, and close their eyes
To soak in the warmth.
The slow, gentle rain stops.
Almost instantaneously,
The green of the meadow
Begins to glow.
A Tarahumara man sits down
And leans against a tree.
Then, he plays the violin he made.
The stoplight turns red
And the cars stop.
A mother Golden Eagle
Spends the day
Teaching her babies
To fly.
A salesman is late to an appointment.
He pulls off to the side of the road
And helps a stranger
Change their tire.
A crumbling old man talks to his cane.
A young woman
Sitting across from him answers.
An old dog crawls from under the porch
And sprawls out onto
The cool, refreshing dirt.
The drizzle stops,
The fog lifts,
And the clouds disappear.
And within a moment, blue skies erupt.
A kid stops, reaches down,
And picks up a nasty used Styrofoam cup.
She stuffs it into her back pocket
To throw away later.
And no one is watching.
Spring arrives in the mountains.
A snowdrift melts and
Is replaced by
A Calypso Orchid.
A volcano blows its lid.
Lava begins to pour out
And a new island is born.
A mountain climber reaches the top.
Before celebrating and relishing the view,
He turns and belays up the person 50 feet behind.
A dead Spruce tree
Falls and blocks a trail in the forest.
A new path begins.
The Sun sinks in the west.
Alpenglow briefly consumes the mountains.
The couple sits on their deck.
They ponder the horizon,
As a full moon rises over the hill.
Small, but integral parts
Of a beautiful day
That never ends.
———————————————————–
Audio Version:
Steps of Faith
Cross the glacier,
And probe the surface ahead
With a pole.
Reach below,
And feel for hidden holes,
Filled with emptiness.
It’s a profound place
Of majestic vistas and open spaces.
Crisscrossed by mysterious cracks of darkness
Known as crevasses.
Which lie in wait–
Hoping to swallow you up,
And drink you into,
Their endless world of ice and cold.
Some are open for all the world to see.
Others are hidden under a thin shield of snow
And the sea you walk,
Is constantly changing.
The shape of each crevasse,
And where they are,
At any given moment in time,
May never be known.
But can be better understood.
Feel the edges underneath,
Where the breaches end,
And the solid glacier extends.
And follow the path of most resistance.
If you do,
The going is slow-
Circuitous and wobbly.
But perhaps you won’t fall in,
And will get where you’re going.
Audio Version:
The Mountaintop
Finally on the summit,
The top’s beneath my feet.
For a moment I rest upon the throne,
Where the mountain is my seat.
I gaze into my surroundings.
Distances of every kind,
Add to the puzzle,
And overwhelm my mind.
I see the route that led me here,
And the places I could go.
For an instant, the world is at my doorstep,
And possibility stirs below.
The “what might be” almost overwhelms,
As “could” fills up my mind.
With thoughts of hope and treasures,
And riches of every kind.
Then a new plan comes to life,
And it’s time to head below.
I’m excited by what awaits,
And the places I may go.
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