Even on the trail to Chimney Tops
He purposely pressed forward.
Eyes darting, feet trudging, mind probing,
Leaning into the scenery
To take in as much as possible,
Burdened by the constraint of time.
Until he returned to the trailhead
And met the woman on the tree stump
Leaning back, legs crossed, savoring the scene.
"I just like to sit and listen to the roaring of the river,
And think of how the Indians
Must have loved to camp here
Near such a beautiful sound."
Then, rounding the bend of the path
He sat down, chastened.
And for the first time paused, listened,
And heard the river
Speak.
|