Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Tag: Hiking
Ruins Near A Waterfall
Snippets of blue and clouds Poke through rafters That once held meaning. Still, something walks Within the ruins Weathered old boots…and Ashen hands, brushing Stone, steel, and rust Feeling along debris As if it were night In the summer shade. Outside, where tourists… Continue Reading “Ruins Near A Waterfall”
Ramona Falls’ Mist
Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated. That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter. Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon… Continue Reading “Ramona Falls’ Mist”
Social Distancing
The warmth of the car Its heater The soothing voice of its radio The insulation it promises The thoughts we have When losing the trail In the middle of a snowstorm (Image entitled Bones. Click on image to enlarge. More images can… Continue Reading “Social Distancing”
Traveling Near the Dark
There’s a quietness about the river broken by a random leap, splash of steelheads. a prairie hawk loses a feather. The natives drink a loud liquor on their fishing platforms, dip nets looking for fish who choose to become parts of ceremonies. The… Continue Reading “Traveling Near the Dark”
Living With The Volcano
A wide emptiness sits over Spirt Lake from Harry’s Ridge to Harmony Lake Viewpoint. An emptiness of vast distance with stars or sun, clouds and wind…a series of personalities, always in the process of change, threatens to knock all thought out of you. You… Continue Reading “Living With The Volcano”
Wet Pine Needles
Running the brittle floor—upon leaves settled to soil. With mild hands wandering—through air and pressed sunlight. Becoming branches—breaching the film of moist sky. Clinging to winter’s sun—lucent thoughts, fictile. Moving with the wildness—of the warm, fragile body. Its abstractions of molds—ravines, dips, and death.… Continue Reading “Wet Pine Needles”
Mountain Lake
I sit with her Placing her in memory Giving thoughts strength, yet In her silence, she frightens me. I rely on others Camping upon her shore To soothe my worry. And although I haven’t Seen her rimmed with snow Echoing the clearest of nights,… Continue Reading “Mountain Lake”
Ghost Story For The Wilderness Impaired
She’s a ghost. I know that. She brushes her fingers along my shoulders and I will look up to find her playing among the trees, pretending to be the wind. She’ll drop a pinecone or a small branch as a reminder. Then, off she… Continue Reading “Ghost Story For The Wilderness Impaired”
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