Hood- Backpacking Poetry

Step crick

Step creak

Step crick step

 

Heaving breaths and sore shoulders,

The wild and free wind,

Plays with my hair.

Open 

Awake

All of me is here,

At once I am a cedar,

And fragile thin glass.

 

The mountain is

living,

giving,

kind and

so frightening. 

 

Am I a part 

of her fabric,

Is my communion

sweet flowing water,

Are these shady arms

made of pine

gathering me close?

 

Or am I a child,

An intruder,

Loving flames,

Playing with matches,

Underestimating

Her power?

 

-Written after 4 days on the Timberline Trail. By Erin Rain Gautier.

Photo by Erin Rain Gautier.