Frosty Mountain
Snow, not frost
A wall to wall carpet
as Brenda and I leave Hope
and at the trail head.
Lightning Lakes glimmer below us
as we push politely past hikers
and some instagrammers obsessed with selfies,
Obsessed with themselves.
Larches sprinkled generously with snow,
glow gently
yellowish gold against the clear, cold
bluebird sky.
The summit waits patiently,
a sharp, crooked triangle
of rock and snow.
Dinner also waits patiently,
kindly prepared by Perry
in his tiny house on wheels.
The evening sky is deep and darkly black.
The infinity of stars stare back at us,
so bright without a city light.
Skyline 1 Trail
Fortified by Perry’s fabulous pancakes,
Brenda, Perry and I hike up from Lightning Lakes.
No people, no larches,
the sky stretching far and wide,
another sunny day.
The ridge cuts a line,
separating heaven and earth,
sky and mountains.
It feels like we are in heaven.
A solitary deer
proudly shows it silhouette,
at the top of the ridge.
In the distance,
mountain peaks in another country.
Below our feet,
a brave and hardy strawberry plant.
Graceful switchbacks lead us down
to Strawberry Flats and our cars.
