500 miles to go

Climb the soft sandstone

And round red rock

I catch a glimpse, get a shock

When old man desert whispers

stories of our origins

the inevitable undoing

Approaching summit

Dry river bed snakes parallel

Boulders become slabs of slate

Grey and green — your eyes flash out at me

I suppose surprised

The feeling, raw

Yet the wind cools

Ice melts this thaw

Pine trees shiver on their black bark

The long-haired willow flay about

Blue heron I kneel to pray here

Lay prone and bury my fear

Sit still and stay dear

No need to rush away

The hours will climb this day without help

White plains complete yourself