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.

7 comments:

  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.

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

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  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 . . .

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  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

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

    xo

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  6. What a great matching of words to photos.

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