Hood- Backpacking Poetry

Step crick

Step creak

Step crick step


Heaving breaths and sore shoulders,

The wild and free wind,

Plays with my hair.



All of me is here,

At once I am a cedar,

And fragile thin glass.


The mountain is



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,


Her power?


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

Photo by Erin Rain Gautier.