Gold Mint Trail, Hatcher Pass
Today is not a day I dreamed…it will be summer, always
not a day I longed for tall grasses to pant and froth
like winded ocean waves
Light clears the ridge for the first time
in two months and
a vicious storm brews behind my eyes
(place your hand on my heart, feel the trembling)
something bottomless is stuck, sinking slowly but
never reaching the ocean floor.
Up here the air is thin, the sky cerulean blue
not your ordinary magic (ha)
a pale day-moon gathers, refusing to be extinguished
unwarmed by a brief slant of sun
the wind is cold
so cold it burns my cheeks.
No more talking: listen
No more pushing: yield
until the mud settles
until the water is clear.
Note: This poem made its arrival after hiking the Gold Mint Trail at Hatcher Pass yesterday with friends. The trail was hard packed, the wind severely blowing and cold…but we were exhilarated. Sometimes just getting out and walking in the natural world banishes all that ails us.