(A Poem From Yesterday’s Outing in the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area.)

Grey and hazy

My view obscured

Yet, climb I must

 

Higher, still higher

Until only a

Few cubits remain

 

Finally Sol’s rays

Warmth instead of

Mist on my cheeks

 

An igneous summit

Called Sandstone Peak

Along Boney Ridge

 

Azure above me

A carpet of clouds

At my feet

Beneath and unseen

From which I came

A placid sea

 

Many miles remain

A scamper, a jog

On a path uneven

 

There is exultation

In running wild

With aging limbs

 

To Ruth. A gift for her birthday.