Here's an experience I haven't forgotten...
Freedom stands on the slick rock
In the red dust blue morning
And leaves no footprints
But stretches yoga-style
The asleep-in-the-dew-rice-cake-morning position
Pointing at God with a skyward finger
Left foot against right leg
Armpit hair waving like burnt grass
In a wind that kicks a plastic Sparklett bottle
Panicking along the rock
Over the edge
Into the clear green pools, surface
Now tarnished, a torn virgin.
There are mock layers of anguish
And exclamations of tarnished values
And heroic plans for water-bottle rescue
And the salvation of the planet.
But there is a canyon ahead
Broken by a mirrored stream and unbroken promise
And stones which beckon
And Freedom stretches
The green-snake-collared lizard-gila monster position
The bra-less-vegetarian-flowing-hair-natural-smile position
Packs up in an effortless flourish
And is gone.
A true outdoorsman, when treed by a bear, sits back and enjoys the view.
Lost? Hell, I ain't never been lost. But I have been a mite confused for a week or two.
-The Mountain Men