~

the trail is too narrow 

to walk side by side, i walk 

behind colin, following

his long strides, admiring

his long legs. i am not

a hiker, but i am not dainty

which means, thus far

i can keep pace. we're quiet,

hiking seems to be aural

my eyes on on the trail

my senses, especially hearing

attune to natural input

~

an hour ago i was chilly

now shorts and a tee 

are more than enough

the weight of my small pack

makes its presence known

colin suggests i think of it

as my home away from home

carrying all i could ever need

food, clothing, shelter

what about my cello, think i

~

in the morning we wake to frost

colin makes a fire

we make tea and instant oatmeal

he says we'll reach the gorge by noon

i'm sore, i feel a long way from home

and very dependent on colin 

~

by noon we reach the gorge

a bouldered creek almost white

with snow melt rushing downward

going over, around, and seemingly under

huge blocks of tumbled granite

the creek flows into a lake, a black lake

with a rippling, sun-specked surface

surround by pines so dark they too appear 

almost black, the mountain sloping

steeply into the lake, i can only imagine

the depth, and have no desire to plumb it

the trail comes to an outcropping

overlooking the lake, then veers left

and right, both ways circling the lake

but we stop here atop the rocky cliff

this is our destination

~

colin sheds his pack and clothes 

off he goes, a prince swan-diving

into a nether realm, so it seems

surfacing yowling and beaming

shaking his beach-boy hair

sun-sparkled drops his crown

he says exactly what i expect

does he expect me to demur

off with it, all of it, clothes and me

arcing into the sky, arms flung outward

back arched, legs straight, toes pointed

soaring, never to touch down

~