Twenty-Four into the Pasayten Wilderness

It's been a long, interesting yet perplexing summer. I haven't been very good at keeping up with my entries here but the regimen of school should change that. I hope to again post once a week from here on out. The dog and I took a much needed road trip before school started. Here's a scene from part of that trip. (note - "Souls" is spelled correctly)

(Note 2 - On 9/9 I did a little editing. Of course the editing will never be finished...)



Twenty-Four into the Pasayten Wilderness


It was just summer yesterday;
Hot, heavy, diffused, dry, compressed
Sun pushed on the top of our heads and shoulders
Mountain flower bouquets dried in the
Smoke hanging everywhere and nowhere
The air dry, dirty, edgy, a little bitter
The dog and I pushed up the switchbacks
Drippy, panting, dusty, breeze not helping
Particles of ash hazed the sun and routed our breath
Particles of dirt jumped and swirled with every step
Sticking to our feet, legs and paws
The thunderheads tried to form
Tried to blowup out of the southwest
Instead one yellow, misshapen balloon after another
Dissolved, never once shading us from the sun
The little kid called summer had successfully shined off his bath
And got to roll around with his buddies smoke and sun

This morning the air is smooth and moist
We woke to rain tapping on our tarp
And thunder shaking the ground
I acknowledge both with a long look and a smile
But stay in my sleeping bag
The dog looked also, did a circle
And landed back in the same warm spot…

I finish my coffee and tighten my cinch straps;
The air...
The wind...
A new color...
Soaks the skin on my forearms
Pushing the white hair in wheat-like waves
While lacing my nostrils with a cool drowsiness
That seeps from skin and lungs into chest and thighs
Eventually filling the head and massaging the souls of my feet
After stifling summer heat and hay fever and haze
The inescapable blue from the edge of day and night
Slips in and out with each breath
Squirrels and sparrows jump from branch to branch
Their songs affirming our freedom from dirty yellow
Dog and I glide over the trail through this light blue change
An flotilla of bulbous clouds slide in from Canada
Across a sky their morning brothers have freed
Slow shadows compose a wandering breeze
Mountains and ridges that were blurry and distant and crooked
Now run clean and high defining the edge of seasons