Tag: outdoors

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:

Seeing the Sunset

Oasis

Pondering

Islands in the sea of life,
Respites to the strife.
Lean on back against a tree,
Daydream of what might be.

See the forests, touch the rocks,
Feel the dirt and watch a fox.
Drink a raindrop, hug the trees,
And savor every gentle breeze.

Walk the path, stay on the trail,
Don’t let the bumps your life derail.
Should a river block your way
Wade in and cross it, you’ll be okay

When a whirlwind grabs and sends
Your moments into dizzy spins.
Find your footing, breathe in deep,
You can count on nature, your soul to keep.

Audio Version:

On top of Bullseye

Good Senses

Looking into the Copper Canyon backcountry

Starry nights
And faraway lights.
Where storm clouds go
And a wild lightning show.

Above the peak
And the end of the trail.
Crossing a log
And staying out of the bog.

Warm days in winter
And fields full of color.
Snowfall in summer
And a distant drummer.

Intriguingly perched boulders
And birds flying south.
The movements of herds
And undefined words.

Second winds found
And hills lit by the sun.
Uncharted miles
And grandeur that smiles.

Mysterious corners
And faces in logs.
Waves rolling in
And time without end.

Branches all tangled
And stickers that stick.
Why campfires smoke
And cause you to choke.

The bacon that’s cooking
And ants that don’t bite.
Dust Devils on the horizon
And moments that wizen.

Unknown new roads
And scratching an itch.
At the top of the climb
And the future time.

Life fills up your mind
And lights up your path.
So, free your spirit to wander,
There’s so much to ponder.

Audio Version:

A campfire to smell

Rich

backpacker walking down a dirt road in the mountains with the Aspen trees turninggolden.

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:

Boquillas Canyon on the Rio Grande

 

Mired in the Mud

Backpackers crossing a creek
Crossing a creek

Backpacking down the trail.
I come to a creek,
And look for a crossing.
It’s a dry one I seek.

Suddenly I’m stopped,
Mired in the mud.
A boot gets stuck,
And I fall with a thud.

I feel my body,
And nothing seems hurt.
I decide to get up,
And wipe off the dirt.

Except…

The dirt that covers my hands and legs,
Is gooey, wet, and awful sticky.
And to clean it off now I realize,
Will be a task that’s mighty tricky.

So, I wade into the stream,
Where the water is wet.
Wash off the mess,
And loudly scream.

Now that I’m clean,
But thoroughly soaked.
I continue across,
My dry crossing revoked.

I clamber out of the water,
On the other side.
Drenched to the hilt.
And I begin to slide.

The weight of the backpack,
Pulls me back.
Toward the water,
And I begin to totter.

Once again I fall,
Onto my back this time.
My pack’s submerged,
But without the grime.

My stuff’s all soaked,
My elbow aches.
Getting up is hard,
And my body shakes.

Finally, I’m up,
And proceed once more.
This time careful,
As I reach the shore.

Then, it’s out of the water,
Up onto the bank.
This time it’s easy,
I have two fails to thank.

Audio Version:

backpackers on the trail
Backpacking
%d bloggers like this: