A Couple Poems

I've been reading Luci Shaw's collection of poetry, What the Light was Like. Her poem, "Without a Shadow" got me thinking about hiking in the fog and I've penned the following two poems over coffee this morning. The picture to the left is of the Applachian Trail in the Mt. Roger's area of Virginia. I didn't have a scanned copy of a good fog picture, so this one will have to do.


Fog: Golden Gate Grasslands
Fog encased eucalyptus trees
stand lean as soldiers, at attention,
lining the road.

Shouldering my pack,
I follow the dirt path upward
into the grasslands
where fog enslaves,
consuming the trail behind
and hiding my path ahead.

Despite the dampness cooling my skin
and the taste of salt upon my lips,
I push toward freedom
and the sound of the foghorn
at Point Bonita
that calls my name.


Fog: Roan Mountain, Tennessee
Fog moves in
as we crest Roan Mountain.
The trail obscured,
silence engulfs the ghostly forest,
broken occasionally
by the groan of a widow maker.

We call it a day
and warm ourselves with a fire
drinking tea and drying socks.
As afternoon and evening,
twilight and night
merge into one.

At light, we tend our blisters
and shoulder our packs,
hiking north, across a meadow
observing the sunrise
above a blanket of clouds
hiding the valleys below.