Something
about these mountains
that grabs hold
of…………
Your soul, your spirit, your
heart
and won’t let go, won’t turn
loose, as they did
thirty nine summers ago

They hold you
deep in their pocket
 until
you awake
in  mystical canyons
mossy old outcrops
 of spruce and pine
 needled floor
aspens
standing watch over


and one night you look up…
  and find yourself
under a blanket of stars
deep in this forest of beauty and
wonder
the taste of mystery
like a long lost puppy
returning ,back to the
fold
tail wagging, sniffing
going where it shouldn’t
following scent trails
to heavens knows where
of balsam pine, spruce, elk
a bear or two
chasing ,sounds to high ground
up
 to Lobo peak
water rushing , rocks falling, canyon echo’s

Climbing, pushing on
past the source
past the Columbine to just a
trickle
higher, and higher

To the song of birds
 to trails unknown
upwards

On high cloudy ridges
almost …….alone
the million stars over head

The wind whispering
sweet melodies

And always, always
some new trail

To follow high up in
the Sangre De Cristo

Mountains

 Snassano 07-08-08