Mud and snow, block the path,
we slow, and find our way;
the sun is bright, the skies so blue,
are the reasons that we stay.
Darkened pines obscure the view,
of snow-capped peaks far off;
we dodge the rock strewn trail,
puddles shine, like brownish broth.
Then, the hillsides open up,
a thousand feet, above the road;
the highway is a serpent,
through the mountain's fold.
The air up here is pure and clean,
it rejuvenates the being;
the soul is stirred by visions,
of the beauty we are seeing.
We hike until we're tired,
though our weariness is nice;
for this time and for this moment,
this walk... it will suffice.
Last week's walk in the hills.