“Looking down, it was clearly too steep to scramble. But, oh, the call & cool swirl of tossed water made a desperate pitch almost seem feasible. If you keep going, not knowing, you eventually find a way. And no traction’s better than bare skin, ditch the skateboarding sneakers sans tread, for in this world, it must be full contact. Take comfort in the grip of boulders, a spongy summer heat like melting caramel without the goo, just warmly solid underfoot. This is high season. A peak, an apex, a final curtain call. I’ve found my tribe among the fearless who stumble, and get up still fighting with a blessing on their tongue. Always a good word, for those who are not quite seeing yet. The waters pour and pour, carving granite, filling wells, with ceaseless generosity. I might just be craving the coldest dip in the clearest pool. But I’ll get what I get. I’m already bracing for winter. And looking up as I dangle my legs off a half submerged ledge, and kick with all my joy, the forest limbs cross over, beating each other, widow making, but never harming me. Those tangles hang far above, in an endless universe of strife. My job is only to accept protection, from the staunch allies of my elemental faith, and offer the same in return. We do resort to short cuts at times, that nearly take us out. Bored or impatient, neglected, starved for human affection, channeling pure energy that seems to have no place on a polluted planet, or merely downed by betrayal. This may be our only path during black raspberry season, or inexplicably lush blossom explosions: of rose, of cinquefoil, of wild strawberry. I didn’t ever ... or maybe I did. I know I loved you, abandoning the present to throw myself, impale myself in fact on the sharp point of an idyllic vision of “heaven-on-earth”. What did you do? I’ll never know. This is why we hold true. For those unwilling to walk as equal partners.”
