Dancing to Beyond

Two sorts of trails

Wander with intent
And dance with the winds.

They’ll lead you down the trail
To a place where life transcends.

Feel the ground beneath your feet
As you twirl and whirl and swirl.

Move into unknown spaces,
See nature’s light unfurl.

Hear the heartbeat as it rumbles,
Feel the rhythm throbbing sweetly.

Smell the roses in their glory,
Pass the moments indiscreetly.

Go where the breezes take you,
Let your limits fall behind.

Be a whirlwind marching onward
Full of pureness unrefined.

Turn loose of what constrains you
As you enter what’s ahead.

Then marvel at where you’ve gone
And at the place your path has led.

Audio Version:

Backpacking

Morning on the Trail

Backpacker hiking up slick rock in Mexico's Copper Canyon
Backpacking up the slick rock in Copper Canyon

Out of the tent and into the morning,
What will the new day have to say?

The fresh morning air is crisp and clear,
The soon-to-be coffee will be hot and dear,
And my mind is most certainly full of cheer.

The air is filled with a calming breeze,
I ponder how last night it got down to 38 degrees.

Heavy dew got everything wet,
I was that way, too, but mine was from sweat.

High in the sky, movement catches my eye,
I focus and see it’s a hawk floating by,
And I wish that I could also fly.

Two chipmunks scurry between nearby rocks,
The big one squeaking like a chatterbox.

I also hear the tumbling creek,
Yesterday, things were looking awfully bleak,
But today, we’ll forget that and climb the peak.

Sunlight is shining on the summit we seek,
Looking at the steepness makes my knees feel weak.

I’ll worry about that later on,
But for now, I’m just gonna relish the dawn,
And enjoy watching the newborn fawn.

Since we’re climbing Big Sandy, then returning here for the night,
We can limit our gear and travel light.
.
For the climb, we won’t need a big backpack.
We’re only taking raingear, water, and snack,
And can fit all of that into a knapsack.

I need to get the group up and going,
Before the wind starts really blowing.

The storms have started building every day at noon.
Just like during monsoon season, but it’s only June.
All the more reason to get going soon.

Thank goodness my rain jacket’s been working well,
It’s kept me dry and it’s only a shell.

The climb’s gonna be long, so I need to fill my bottles with water.
Look over there, is that an otter?
I swear those rocks are beginning to totter.

My thoughts sharply focus on the pending climb,
And I realize it’s become that time.

The sun’s rising fast,
The time for leaving has almost passed.

We won’t be cooking oatmeal,
Cause beating the storm’s, a big deal.
Our need to leave has now become real.

“Get up, pack your stuff, we’re leaving,” I shout.
“If we wanna beat the rain, we need to get out.”

“Just eat a snack,
While you get ready and pack,
We’ll do some cookin’ when we get back.”

“And zip up your tent, before we head out,
If you don’t and it rains things will get wet no doubt.”

After the flurry of action, we finally head out,
With the peak our goal, but without a route.

We cross the creek and see it’s full of trout,
And suddenly that’s all we’re thinking about.

We stop and talk about our goal for the day,
And decide it best to fish and stay.
Plus, avoiding the storm will help make it okay.

So, we turn around, and off we tramp,
From where we just left, it’s back to camp.

Once we get there, most get out their poles,
Then head back to the creek and the various fishing holes.

I stay behind and consider what’s changed,
And ponder the plan that’s been disarranged.

The climb to the top would’ve been fun,
Especially, that is, if the summit we won.

But the fish grabbed our attention,
And changed our intention.
As soon as we saw them, there was no more ascension.

And now here we are, on the banks of the creek,
Instead of climbing toward the peak.
We still have a “goal,” so to speak,
But it’s no longer the summit, it’s Brookies we seek.

Days are full of changes to plans,
Partly because there are so many cans.

Relish the moments, both subtle and profound,
Embrace all that happens and keep looking around.

Continue reading “Morning on the Trail”

Infinitense

Rejuvenance awaits

Head west and follow the sunsets,
Toward horizons always yonder.
Keep the distance in your sights,
As you hike the trail to infinitense.

Beyond the edge of what you see,
Countless moments wait to be.
And once you’re there,
You’ll set them free.

Distant magic waits to happen,
Out of sight, but not of mind.
Wake it with your presence.

So, cross the valley,
Ford the river,
Climb the ridge,
And engage the magnificence that awaits,

Infinitense beckons.

When you get there,
Drink in every drop of what you find.

See the
Thundering waters and towering waterfalls,
Huge forests teeming with life.
Desert mountains full of quandary,
Rolling prairies of waving grass.

But don’t just saturate your heart with awe.
Embrace the treasure,
Join the moment,
Replenish, refresh, reload,
And remember…

When you reach one horizon,
Another is born.

So, keep hiking.

Infinitense never leaves,
It’s forever just ahead.
And there’s always a trail that’ll take you there,
To the place beyond compare.

Audio Version:

Indian Blankets for a moment

The Heartbeat

 

Distant rope team crossing the Kahiltna Glacier
Crossing the Kahiltna Glacier in Alaska

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.

Audio Version:

Fisherman standing on a rock in the middle of a mountain lake

Wilderness

A photograph of a mountain lake reflecting the surrounding mountains

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.

Continue reading “Wilderness”

Bigger than Life

mountain landscape
Everywhere you look

It ebbs and flows,
And comes and goes.
Astounding, profounding,
And sometimes confounding.

Feel the pulse that proves it lives,
Drink the moments that it gives.
Touch the ground beneath your feet,
Hear the rhythm and the beat.

Gentle giant that roars and cries,
See the magic with your eyes.
Ever-present in our lives,
Often injured yet survives.

Quietly listen to the words,
Watch the movements of the herds.
Restless, patient, wise, and strong,
Always right, but sometimes wrong.

It answers every call,
No matter big or small.
Pushing forward from within,
Always there through thick or thin.

Like a force field in the air,
That commands life everywhere.
With silent words of endless hope,
That connects things like a rope.

Breathe it in and soak it up,
Let the nectar fill your cup.
Mother Nature, rest assured,
Always has the final word.

Audio Version:

A pot of gold awaits

Backcountry

Cirque of the Towers

In the backcountry, at last.
Far from the trailhead.

Where the clear sky is bluer
And the blue mind clearer.

Where everything is over yonder,
Except for the things close-by.

Where the bare ground
Is comfortable to sleep on.

Where the fish
Are as big as you want them to be.

Where trails
Go on forever.

Where the weather
Sets the agenda.

Where sardines, Spam, and Nutella
Taste good, all mixed together.

Where you can drink the water
Straight from the creek.

Where the wind
Both begins and ends.

Where rocks and plants
Are considered works of art.

Where shouting
Usually means someone needs help.

Where each minute
Has more than 60 seconds.

Where you have to rely
On the information in your head.

Where maps matter
And wild is a good thing.

Audio Version:

On the Rio Grande River
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