Sometimes

Guy Conner
April 8, 2015

Hiking has been one of my favorite activities for most of my life, but this is my only poem to use hiking imagery.

Sometimes

Sometimes,
I come upon you from above,
My muscles aching from the dusty trail,
My throat parched, and my eyes on fire.
And just
As I begin my slow descent,
I hear a gentle rustle, as of
A garment blowing in the breeze.
Warily, I peer over the rocky edge.
There.
You stand behind the surging waterfall,
Each eye a pebble,
Each breast a rock that stops the flow.
Farther in, I catch a glimpse
Of water life.
And when I descend to join you,
And when I remove my boots, my pack, my clothes,
And stand exposed,
You remain in hiding.
And I think:
Why must there always be
This vale of water and mist,
Coming between  us?

A blog about all the arts, including politics
"for 'twere absurd to think that nature in the earth bred gold, perfect in the instant;
there must be remote matter." - Ben Jonson
"I don't know what the question is, but art is the answer." - Guy Conner

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