Member-only story
Prose Poetry
Heavy Is The Pack
But it feels better off than on
When gravity pulls you to the trail — waiting for someone else to come along — futile, since you’re bound to meet some other soul — unless the fog turns the corridor into a hall of doors — a rhododendron tunnel catches the top loop and you're down
Is this how it ends, you think, composure knocked out with the wind, not you though — you chose this path — bog to crest — you will get there
A wet day — heavy is the pack, but it feels better on than off — your shoulders grow wings — salamanders dart — lunch along with you —
winds swirl poplars and redbuds — rivulets and makeshift bridges — blazes and cairns — poetry whirls and keeps you company
Gloaming turns to darkness in Appalachian rain — quicker than your eyes can dilate — tent down, poles crossed, fly covered, zippered in, sleep
Gusts pepper dreams — one-eye-open kind of night — subtropical spiced laurels and run-off, spring peepers announce dawn — it’s cold
Left to right — no one else on the trail, but the sun is breaking through — beams cross the creek, rainbow up over falls — almonds and chocolate — singing, you pack for the day — maybe someone up ahead will build a fire
tonight — for now, you climb alone.
