Rigid Ledges

Dusty red sand underneath my old sneakers burns through the soles and makes my feet warmer with every step,

an incline that isn’t pleasant and zig zag paths up the 5,790 foot mountain

Thin air fills my lungs, but not enough to support a six hour hike, with hundreds filling the paths as they sweat and get sunburns in Zion’s National Park,

because of the scouldering sun singeing the tops of heads and shoulders, people bring sunscreen, but not enough for how close the sun feels.

Sand on the path feels fine and silky because of years of erosion and thousands of shoes walking the paths,

cactuses and wildflowers are preserved at the edges of paths, because the signs say “Protect The Plants, STAY ON THE PATH.”

“Ok jeez,” I think.

Chains and narrow ledges make up the rest of the hike; the final leg and the finish,

edges too thin to walk across without support and too thin for two people to go opposite directions,

some spoon for only seconds as they pass one another while holding onto the chain.

At the top, nothing surrounds me;

it’s open and spacious with room for sitting and chatting,

many people around the top of the mountain sit and eat their home made lunches and slather on more sunscreen.

We sit for awhile noticing every detail of the world,

the red and green blobs down and further out, and the people walking look like ants,

moving slowly.   

The shuttle buses that seem like beetles crawling along the red road to take more ants to angels landing.

I wonder to myself “How did sand get all the way up here?”

a thought that I ponder for a while but never find the answer to.

The air is fresh and smells like hot rocks and pine trees,

I grit my teeth together imagining the taste.

The hike back was declined and easy,

feeling refreshed and new,

I have a new appreciation for anybody that hikes Angel’s Landing.

Chasing Waterfalls

Waterfall wind pushes my hair back,

the aroma of white petals floating in the water.

Gigantic green grass concealing the fish;

Boisterous blue birds lurk above, awaiting to swoop in on their prey.

The water’s mood changes like a tree from the seasons,

summer bringing slime-covered palms.

Us kids always attempted catching the fastest of frogs;

they hopped into the water before we could get a grasp.

Then fall rolls in,

fish shivering from the decreasing temperatures.

The pond covered in an assortment of leaves;

Different kinds and colors, overwhelming the now-closed water lilies.

In winter dad turns off the waterfall,

no longer a noise pleasant to the ears.

A thin sheet of ice is heard;

cracking under the weight of rodents.

Finally, in spring the ice and mounds of snow surrounding it melt,

leaving the fishies with chilled conditions.

The pond is soothing to the soul;

my safe place, my home.