I walked the narrow mountain trail
…At first both up and down
Until I reached what seemed to be
…The Smoky mountain’s crown.
And there, I paused upon the path
…And looked out through the trees
To see the low slopes stretching out
…In Autumn’s careless ease.
And then the hike was not as dear;
…I ambled down the slope,
Pulled by the mountain’s own descent,
…By gravity’s veiled rope.
I walked upon a rug of leaves
…That, plastered by a rain,
Was Autumn’s decoupage of tints
…Upon my traveled vein.
A tree had fallen ‘cross the way,
…A trunk too big to climb.
On hands and knees I scuttled ‘neath,
…Like snails slide through the slime.
I’d gone so far without a sign
…I started to despair
Of ever finding what I sought –
…The treasure that was rare.
More than a few times, turning back
…Seemed what might be the best
And sacrifice what I had spent
…In failing Smoky’s test.
I made a vow – a few more yards
…Down and around the trail.
And there! – a place that matched my map!
…I’d found my holy grail!
I clambered down the trail of rocks,
…At times on hands and knees,
And at the bottom of the path –
…The spot of pleasantries
That I had bought with energy –
…A lonely waterfall,
A modest one that hid itself
…Away from almost all.
I marveled at its majesty,
…And mumbled to myself
As threads of silver water silk
…Fell tumbling from a shelf.
Then, pictures taken in my mind
…And in my camera, too,
I packed my gear and took my leave
…For I had work to do.
That long descent, that downward glide
…That ate away at time
Was now a mountain up above
…That I would have to climb.
With weariness, I took my steps.
…No longer did I stride.
And in the silence of the slope,
…My age was amplified.
I warmed and shed my early coat,
…Like trees had shed their leaves,
Like workers start their laboring
…By rolling up their sleeves.
And toil I did, with trudging steps
…That were both short and slow,
With frequent stops to catch my breath
…For I had far to go.
I guessed two thousand steps would take
…Me to the rest I sought.
I counted each so that my mind
…With pain was not distraught.
I knew that predators would oft
…Stalk, following the weak.
And if a bear was trolling me
…I would surrender, meek.
I was the old man, and my sea
…Rose o’er me as a slope
That I must conquer or be lost
…Alone, and without hope.
I took two thousand steps and more;
…Came to a mind-marked place.
Adrenalin seeped to my flesh,
…And I, as snail, could race
The thousand steps it took to end
…My private odyssey,
Where I could sit in weariness
…While basking blissfully.
The precious jewel that I had found
…Would never make me rich.
And present satisfaction would
…Not stop a future itch.
But such things filed within the heart
…When man’s done something fine,
Are treasured nuggets in one’s life
…Like gold within a mine.
———————————————————
The photos are mine: one is the trail I took with its obstacle.
The second is that secluded waterfall.
———————————————————
© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.
The Bard on the Hill 