From: Winnipeg, MB
As the peace dividend continues, I've spent a lot of time in the woods. What I do in the woods stays in the woods. What I think about in the woods used to be John III, mostly. Not about his pasty white thighs and other Yankee-like proclivities, but what he was up to and what I'd find when I got home and ran the turn that was almost always waiting in the inbox.
So I did a ten-mile hike Thursday, on a cold, winter-like day with the wind whipping the mountains. Since I didn't have John to mull over, I waxed poetic. And knowing this audience is almost uniformly a fan of mediocre poetry, I want to share it with you:
In shadows on Fort Mountain’s north side,
ice ribbons sprout from naked earth and curl back,
like wood-shavings hewn by a craftsman.
And in shade on Turkey Mountain’s lee side,
icicles drape a craggy woodland outcropping,
raggedy, like a forgetful man’s untidy beard.
The frozen wind whips each mountaintop,
tail-end of a nor’easter lashing the coast,
snatching warmth through shirt cuff and collar
and teasing between buttons.
But at noon, the sun smiles kindly
on the spongy leaf-litter cushioning
Double Knob’s south-facing slope.
An invitation is given,
to take a seat.
And I do,
Not bad! But the lunch sounded a little pedestrian (in the commonplace activity sense). I expected you would be marvelling at the two faces of nature you just experienced. Still, it brings back memories of similar experiences and long forgotten images! Kudos!
No matter how bad a situation is, you can always make it worse. - Chris Hadfield : An Astronaut's Guide To Life On Earth