Friday, August 20, 2010

Go to the mountain. Friday 55 non-fiction

Breathless, each stair,

the vision’s so clear.

Painful ascent wracks ribcage,

setting pace, atmosphere engaged.

Alpine carpets off-trail:

buckwheat, sage inhaled.

Waterfalls’ silver-orb strands

streaming through hands.

Ripple-mirrored lakes'

moonlit fish-wakes.

River’s rush

conjures sleeper’s hush.

Reawaken with a gusting slap

against the tent-fly flap.

Come to the mountain for air,

to breathe, to care.


  1. I'm packing my bags right now! Oh, these photos are beautiful and your words call me right back to the mountains where I belong.

  2. that is definitely where i go to breath as often as i can...great 55 dianne...

  3. Beautiful 55! I'm glad you put these words to such good use. I was with you all the way...

    Mine's (55) Fifteen is far too young . . .

  4. You sure camp a lot Fab Di!
    I envy you that you can do this with your Boys.
    Loved your pics.
    Love your participation
    Thanks for visiting, and have a Kick Ass Week-End...G

  5. I hadn't realized buckwheat grew at such altitude. Beautiful words AND educational!


  6. What a great matching of words to photos.