(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.