Trails
are for when you don’t know
where you’re going
Through the pines
the trail has less snow on it
The trail
is often longer than you remember
The path cuts down
through the first stripe of bluff
like a crooked creek
The water drops off the sandstone
The simplicity of a deer path
that runs across the steep hill
halfway down on
a flat place
Up ahead the trail along the river there is water stained the color of urine by the tannin of the forest floor. The rest of the shady trail is covered in snow a few inches deep. When I wade through it I suddenly hear running water and look up the hill and there is a waterfull dropping 10 feet at least over the bluff. The water gets six inches deep in the trail and I slog through in my tall boots. I’m glad I opted for the Gore-Tex. I go over to a bench and sit down to write.
I have to get a closer look so I climb up the hill under the cliff and when I get up there I see that the whole overhang is shedding water and I duck through the thin curtain and sit on a flat rock under the overhang. To my right the water falls in two streams, one at least 20 feet. They are splashing and temporary, but still everything waterfall this afternoon.
I look out onto the river below.
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