first: the moon and sun
second: 8.5 miles
third: a fourteener
fourth: pomapoo strength
fifth: learning to climb mountains
sixth: altitude high
hiking
All in a Day’s Work
packing to backpack:
more effort than backpacking
as puppy attests
Life’s a Hike
wildflower hike
with pup who will never whine:
a perfect Wednesday
Summer Break
weekday hiking joys:
mostly-empty trails with dogs
who love each other
uncompromised views
of our blue-sky perfect peaks
and wildflowers
best of all? no work
to big down miles of fun,
of escapism
Catch Me a Breeze
a sunny Sunday
is made for panting puppies
searching for blue skies
Just Like Home
four miles in mountains
sea-level city in view
small leg miracles
The Climb
surrounded by green,
i feel i’ve traveled
this path in my past,
its twists over tree roots,
the edges thick with ancient ferns,
moisture licking my legs,
it is more than a memory.
i come to a place
that has haunted (pleased)
so many dreams that my mind
has put forward just for
this moment in time.
here it offers me a crossroads,
the yellow wood from my youth
or the mountain to climb with age.
i reach for what i think must be
a native plant, plucking up
its circular leaf pattern to turn in my palm
while my mind, taken aback,
makes the choice.
as startling as my decision is,
i turn towards the mountain.
i have seen some peaks between now and then
and I am ready for the climb.
A Perfect Sunday
a muddy trail, a lightweight stroller,
three girls in dresses too pretty for a hike,
the Colorado blue sky peeking out
through wisps of cottonball clouds
and views of red rocks in the forefront,
the perfect center stage to
the distant snowcapped beauties
that draw everyone to this state,
a stop for ice cream on the way home,
grilling burgers and hot dogs
for our first outdoor bugfree patio
dinner of the season,
and we have ourselves
a perfect Sunday.
Soles (Souls)
I will remember when I complain
of my aching feet,
my seemingly disconnected joints,
those tiny porters
(miniature gods)
who didn’t have the money
to go to the fancy running store
and have their strides analyzed,
buying new sneakers
for $100 to relieve the
pounding of pavement on soles (souls)
I will remember when I complain
the three overstuffed backpacks
they each strapped to their narrow backs,
the recycled tires
that didn’t cover the exposed soles (souls)
on their small, Peruvian feet,
the cans of propane and three dozen eggs
they carried in each hand
as they raced up the mountain
in front of us tired tourists,
setting up twenty tents, hot tea, and cookies
before any of us could make
half a step up the million along the Inca trail.
I will remember when I complain
that this is easy,
that anyone could run a half marathon,
that the weight I carry will never match
the burden of poverty
that pushes them beyond human strength
to the top of the mountain,
to the ruins famous worldwide,
to the place where we should all be equal,
where history plus nature creates a masterpiece,
the place where our souls (soles) may rest.
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