Part 1
a '69 Chevy truck,
making its way slowly
up the old logging road,
centipede crawl, the scent
of the pines...
to a small clearing,
where we set up camp.
pitched the tent,
gathered wood for the fire.
enough daylight left,
we began the climb,
up the steep grade
to the top...
the cry of the bobcat,
startles...
then laughter, and we
moved on up.
an old rattlesnake sunning,
careful, go 'round.
we stood on the face of rock,
looking down through the gorge.
the air pure and heady,
the silence overwhelmed.
two hawks gliding down
beneath us.
for a moment then,
timeless...
i'd almost forgotten,
till a few drops of rain
on this morning's windshield,
brought it all back!
Eric Cockrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epilogue-35/
