White Blazes

White Blazes

 

Chilly ice caps every peak

In winter’s cold revenge.

Crunching snow beneath the boot,

Will lead down to the end

Of thousands years

Trekked up and down,

The Eastern Coast by day.

Whilst nighttime brings

Dark wildlife,

A noise that can’t escape.

 

As buds emerge on bony trees,

They chase white blazes

Across worn mountains,

Katahdin releasing a frosty freeze,

Thrust across the vast expanse.

One foot forward, still hardly there

Accomplishing a goal so rare,

Two thousand some odd miles

Home strapped in a pack,

The days ahead,

A beat down path.

 

Where warm summer nights

Entice groggy eyes,

And thick, humid air

Presses down to the ground.

Sludge collected in past spring’s rain

Churn the muddy trails,

Tempting those to fail

As the warm breeze

Flutters, up and away

Settling the colors

That aren’t here to stay.

Atop the misty ridges

Stacked against the clouds,

Cool air swirls autumn’s foliage

And tumbles it around.

 

As the days get colder,

There’s no time to linger,

The hiker’s push on

To their Mecca called Springer.

Old souls slipping

Into the south,

A task to be conquered,

Of this there’s no doubt.

Their shelves packed up,

For just one more night,

As tomorrow will be

The most glorious sight.

 

Atop of Mt. Springer, there we’ll be,

The day we finish the old A.T.

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