Tag: poem

Free

 

Sunset

I see you, Ron,
You’re one of them now.
Circling above,
And watching the ground.

Even with no kayak to paddle,
You’re still following a flow.
But now you’re riding the wind,
To wherever it goes.

Always moving,
Swooping and gliding,
Hovering and soaring,
Looking and seeing.

Sunshine on your back,
Always scanning below.
Dipping and diving,
Then stopping to float.

Swirling winds and updrafts,
A vigilante in the skies.
You’re more than a buzzard,
You’re now Mother Nature’s eyes.

Your dream has come true,
And I’m glad for you.
Now you wander freely,
And have a task that has no end.

Continue reading “Free”

Out the Door

 

Soaking it all in

Adventure calls,
An hour awaits.
What will I see?
What are my fates?

So, I walk through the doorway
And into the woods.
With no trail to walk on,
I follow the coulds.

Right off the bat,
Post Oaks and vines,
Along with some Greenbriers,
Mix with the pines.

At first, I feel limits
To where I can go.
Then push through a tangle,
And go with the flow.

Once out of the thicket,
A meadow appears.
A grazing deer stops,
And perks up its ears.

Though free of confinement,
I stop in my tracks,
Eager to see,
Just how it reacts.

Despite my quiet efforts,
It scampers away.
Just why that happened,
I simply can’t say.

So, I move on ahead,
Across open terrain.
The ground would’ve been solid,
Except for the rain.

My boots become wet
And the dirt turns to mud.
My feet are soon covered
With masses of crud.

I turn to my right
Toward higher ground.
I’m hoping for dryness,
But none can be found.

After walking 5 minutes,
I top a small rise.
Then suddenly before me,
–a pleasant surprise.

A field of wild Raspberries,
Is blocking my route.
And I can see by their color,
That they’re ripe without doubt.

I fill up on berries,
Then emerge near a creek.
I follow the bank,
A dry crossing, I seek.

Around a curve in the creek,
A log bridges the stream.
I get halfway across
Then it breaks, and I scream.

Into the water,
I fall with a thud.
It’s not all that deep,
But there’s plenty of mud.

I move on across,
Then, climb out at the shore.
I’m nasty and wet,
And cold to the core.

Glad to be out,
I sit down on a log.
And that’s when I’m greeted,
By a sick-looking dog.

I look for its owner,
But no one is near.
That the poor pooch is hungry,
Seems to be clear.

I give it my snack,
And it eats it up quick.
Then it chews on some grass,
And picks up a stick.

It sits down beside me
And we both shut our eyes.
But are soon startled to action
By shrieking and cries.

Something’s distressed
I quickly conclude.
We run toward the noise,
And arrive at a feud.

Two birds are fighting
Over a morsel of food.
I stop in my tracks,
But the dog can’t be subdued.

It goes in on attack
But the prey easily escape.
The dog feasts on the morsel
Which puts an end to the scrape.

I get back to my walk
And the dog follows my lead.
But I have no clue where I am,
I’m lost I concede.

I was full of questions.
Should I go right?
Turn to the left?
Or just go where I might?

But then I look up,
And there in the trees
My cabin awaits
Which puts me at ease.

How did I get back here?
I wonder in vain.
I almost turned back,
Have I gone insane?

We walk to the cabin
I don’t know where I’ve been.
But I’m glad to be back
And I’ll take the win.

I ponder the pooch,
The berries, and creek.
The mud, and the cold,
The adventures I seek.

Whether it’s for minutes
Or days without end.
I cherish those moments,
That lead ‘round a bend.

Audio Version:

Taking a Break

 

Golden Lake in the Wind River Range of Wyoming
The Wind River Range, Wyoming

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.

Audio:

Mountain climbers nearing the summit of a mountain

Livin’ and Learnin’

 

 

 

 

Messin’ with a Red Ant,
Drawin’ pictures in the dirt,
Swattin’ at a gnat,
And takin’ off my shirt.

Lookin’ at a cloud,
Whistlin’ out of tune,
Thinkin’ about tomorrow,
And wonderin’ if it’s noon.

Damin’ up the creek,
Wishin’ for a flood,
Hopin’ for dessert,
And playin’ in the mud.

Watchin’ buzzards soar,
Freezin’ in the snow.
Trippin’ on a root,
And seein’ what’s below.

Hammerin’ rocks together,
Tastin’ leaves and grass,
Livin’ in the moment,
And sittin’ on my ass.

Hearin’ Coyotes yippin’,
Puttin’ band-aids on my knee,
Tastin’ Honeysuckle,
And fightin’ with a tree,

Crossin’ on a log,
Bangin’ with a stick,
Gettin’ stung by wasps,
And feelin’ kinda sick.

Laughin’ at the squirrels,
Swimmin’ with the Perch,
Dryin’ in the Sun,
And headin’ off to search.

Burnin’ up the daylight,
Avoidin’ all the Ticks,
Yellin’ cause I can,
And fiddlin’ with some sticks.
Screamin’ at a boulder,
Listenin’ to the day,
Runnin’ from a bug,
And ponderin’ what to say.

Walkin’ without shoes,
Forgettin’ things I know,
Rememberin’ what just happened,
And rowin’ with the flow.

Drinkin’ from a pond,
Witchin’ with a stick,
Rollin’ down the hill,
And floatin’ in the crick.

Climbin’ on a mountain,
Raisin’ up the sail,
Breathin’ in the air,
And followin’ a new trail.

Leanin’ on a tree,
Ponderin’ sticker burrs,
Rattlin’ the bushes,
And screamin’ if it stirs.

Soakin’ up the mornin’,
Celebratin’ what went right,
Smellin’ all the roses,
Not frettin’ about the night.

Fillin’ up the moments,
Soakin’ in the day,
Savorin’ ‘round the corner,
Goin’ where I may.

Audio File:

A ba backpacking cooking group prepares a mealroup
Supper

Light at the End of the Tunnel

 

The afternoon rain nourished the ground,
But left your fingers cold, wet, and numb.
Your hands feel like blocks of wood.
The situation is miserable,
But a hot cup of coffee awaits.

It was only a riffle,
But the canoe turned over anyway,
And all of your stuff is soaked.
There’s a warm and stiff breeze,
So just pull over to the bank,
Unpack your gear, set it out,
And let the wind work its drying magic.

The snow has gotten into your boots,
And your socks are sopping wet.
Your toes are beginning to ache
And lose feeling.
But the cabin is nearby,
And you’ll soon have your bare feet
Propped up on a chair and warming in front of the wood stove.

The early morning rain shower
Was unfortunate, timing-wise.
The tent fly is completely saturated
And it’s time to pack up and leave.
So just stuff it in the bag as is.
Soon enough, you’ll have it spread out
And drying under a blaring sun.

The conditions are brutal above treeline,
But that’s where you are.
High winds are blowing the snow
Directly into your face,
Stinging, burning, and limiting what you can see.
But the calm of the refugio
Is only a few minutes away.

Somehow, you got the tent set up in the rain,
Before the full force
Of the storm arrived.
Now it’s really coming down.
But” glory be!” –you’re warm and dry
Inside the tent and zipped up in your sleeping bag

There’s no moon, and the night is incredibly dark.
You’ve put on all the clothes you have
But are still cold.
You bundle up in your sleeping bag
As much as you can, but your shivering is out of control.
Then, you remember
That dawn is coming,
And tomorrow is supposed to be hot and sunny.

Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere.
You’re alone, it’s late-night, and you’re
Distressed by the thought of all the things you don’t have.
But then, you realize what you do have,
Which includes no pressing schedule
And a pleasantly warm night ahead.
And so, you recline the seat,
Close your eyes, and relax yourself to sleep.

The thunder and lightning are especially terrifying
From your up-close position under the tree.
Thankfully, you got your raingear on
Before the thunderstorm unleashed its torrent.
It begins to rain hard,
But the time between thunder and lightning
Is beginning to lengthen,
And you know that means the storm is moving away.

Rest comes easier,
When you know there is,
Light at the end of the tunnel.

Anchoring the Tent

 

Outside the Doors, Nature Scores

 

Colorado mountains
Miles and Miles of Wild

Drizzly days
And hilltop haze.
Northern Lights
And starry nights.

Soggy trails
And empty sails.
Mountaintops
And hurt that stops.

Fields of flowers
And meteor showers.
Desert sands
And barren lands.

Paths aplenty
And options many.
Frozen hands
And fouled up plans.

Horrid heat
And driving sleet.
Summit hopes
And gentle slopes.

Thirst unquenched
And clothes all drenched.
Grazing herds
And flocks of birds.

Gentle breeze
And massive trees.
Blowing gales
And monster tales.

Wild Strawberries
And pristine prairies.
Foot stuck in mud
And massive flood.

Thorny shrubs
And a boot that rubs.
A swimming Otter
And fresh running water.

Deep snow on ridges
And rotten bridges.
Double rainbows
And grassy meadows.

Warm sunshine
And stars align.
Runout cracks
And big bear tracks.

Possibilities many
And thoughts of plenty.
No food or drink
And skunks that stink.

Butterflies
And stormy skies.
Hornet stings
And Condor wings.

Times of wonder
And times of thunder.
Wobbly fawns
And rainy dawns.

Squirrels at play
And birds of prey.
Rose hip tea
And churning sea.

Majestic views
And trails you lose.
Grand waterfalls
And sheer cliff walls.

Warming fire
And prickly briar.
Red sunsets
And route regrets.

Blue noontime sky
And dust in eye.
Lost, then found
And a cracking sound.

Unseen growls
And hooting owls.
Joyous hoots
And slippery roots.

Thank-god Holds
And summer colds.
Scree to ski
And crashing tree.

Moonlight glow
And blowing snow.
Horny Toads
And unneeded roads.

Times of glitch
And times of rich.
Times of pain
And times of gain.

Outside the door
There’s lots of or.
There’s good and bad.
And happy and sad.

So,
Embrace the rhymes
And engage the times.

———————————————————–

Audio Version:

Clearing in the West

Harmonizing

Soaking it all in

Kick back and feel the moment,
Hear the music in the air.
Nature’s harmonizing,
Its sound is everywhere.

To the west, there’s thunder rumbling,
Down below a river roars.
Across the way, a wolf is howling,
While an eagle loudly soars.

In the forest tree trunks groan,
An unseen tree falls with a whack,
Footsteps walk an unknown trail,
And branches bend and loudly crack.

A fish splashes in the creek,
And rockfall echoes from the cirque.
Busy Beavers slap the water,
As they go about their work.

To the west, a coyote yips,
While staying just beyond your reach.
Raindrops pelt the leaves above,
Where two big Buzzards sit and screech.

On the ridge the north wind whistles,
As it blows between the rocks.
In the marsh, the frogs are croaking,
And they sound like ticking clocks.

What you hear is quite compelling,
But what you don’t is more profound.
So, close your eyes and listen hard,
To both the silence and the sound.

Audio Version:

 

So Much to Hear

Showtime

Stars of the show

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:

Waterfall on the Middle Fork of the Popo Agie