Day 22 -- Silence of the Nodes

I decided after my blue day yesterday I needed to silence the nodes.  I walked the dog for an hour around West Lake Okoboji this morning, and then took a two-hour hike in Fort Defiance this afternoon.  And, just as I did last Sunday, I wrote a poem.  Well, it's more like an epic b/c, rather than stopping to write only once during my hike, I kept my pad and paper at the ready and recorded my experiences throughout the hike. 

The Hike
by Mari Miller Burns

The sentinel keeps the hill from sliding toward the ravine,
And gives me a hand-hold to steady myself on the descent.
Scarred and broken, she still stands strong.
I continue downward, glancing back to say,
"Thank you."
A labyrinth of logs await
Fallen to test my resolve.

Another sentinel, his head decapitated by wind or illness,
Has at the base of his trunk, shavings that carpet the earth.
Refuse of the creature who calls the headless hull its home.
I reach the creek bed, a mere trickle.
Choosing to clamber over rocks instead of trees,
My pace quickens, my eyes dart to where my feet are to follow.
No longer looking at the woods around me,
My mission is to follow one rock to the next, playing
A game to avoid soaked socks.

An impasse.
Pause on a rock to take a drink of water from my thermos.
"Nothing personal," I say to the stream.
Chart my course over the deeper, wider, faster waters.
A mosquito distracts me or guides me, not sure which.
I stop to listen, but my mind races as fast as its wings.
I need a translator.
"If you're going to tag along," I tell it, "ride on my hat and keep quiet."

Two small saplings serve as hand-holds while I once again ascend.
A snake-like vine, reminiscent of Jumanji, has strangled a tree,
And lost its life in the process.
Baby steps now as I follow a trail downward.
A yellow-tipped butterfly glides gracefully without need
Of traction or hand-holds.
The trail is temporarily lost as leaf 5047 joins her sisters on the floor.
A baby pine has been mauled, its tendrils surrounding the scar.
The rut has begun.
That explains why that doe stared at me as if I were competition.

The vegetation grows dense and just when my claustrophobia threatens,
I come to a clearing and a fence line.
The harvest hasn't begun here yet.
The blue, bulbous water tower helps me collect my bearings.
The mosquito speaks no more,
But the rising welt behind my ear speaks volumes.
I've seen that tree before, that rock looks familiar.
Panic creeps low in my gut.
I'm like a horrid power point that just keeps looping.

A bridge.
I know that bridge.
Just beyond that bridge is a steep path that will take me to
Almost exactly where I left the scooter.
Stop on the bridge to gather strength
And a few more sips of water.
Again, nothing personal.

No way to zigzag
The trail is vertical.
The wind offers me encouragement
Or maybe a swift kick.
A white arrow on a tree confirms my direction.
The only way out is up.

A bird laughs at me while the thumping in my ears
Beats like war drums.
One last look as I catch my breath.
The mosquito's cousin just died on my elbow.
Reaching in my pocket for the scooter key,
My hand wades through the skins of civilization:
Snickers, Fruit Roll-Up, Hostess Donettes.
Other hikers before me are obviously illiterate.