Perhaps a little wilderness
is what’s called for.
Wailing muscle the heart of the trail.
Web hems stretch, cling,
dry limbs' claws waylay bare legs.Altitude gained,
oxygen lost.
Trudging rhythm. Breaths of dust.

Grasp for barren treasure, the
hard outline against bright space.
Promise me
a difficult beauty.


Oh, this makes me miss our mountain hiking. It was never, ever easy for me. Buck always said that ascents are fine, but descents are dangerous, and while that is probably true, (after all, my two bad falls were both on steep descents), why then is it that I always moan, groan and think I am going to die on the ascent, but whistle and sometimes sing on the descent? If we truly live, we know something about "difficult beauty."

I especially love your words here: "the hard outline against bright space."
Deanna said…
I know, Beth, the climb up is the endurance test, but the descent can be really treacherous. I always feel best, in some ways, the minute I step back inside at home. :o)
jodi said…
I love looking, but I'm such an armchair adventurer. You changed your blog--probably awhile ago, lol. And it's beautiful. :) Thank you for the pictures, Deanna.
Amy E Smith said…
Thank you, Deanna. This entry brought a lump to the throat. Beauty cuts through so much. :)