Hiking has been one of my favorite activities for most of my life, but this is my only poem to use hiking imagery.
Sometimes
Sometimes,
I come upon you from above,
My muscles aching from the dusty trail,
My throat parched, and my eyes on fire.
And just
As I begin my slow descent,
I hear a gentle rustle, as of
A garment blowing in the breeze.
Warily, I peer over the rocky edge.
There.
You stand behind the surging waterfall,
Each eye a pebble,
Each breast a rock that stops the flow.
Farther in,...
Published on April 07, 2015 18:04