Friday, March 09, 2018
Haiku Friday: In the mountains
My people are old mountain people, from the fringes of Appalachia, where the mountains are worn down and rounded, walkable but sometimes wild. In that part of the country, people might not have ever been to a town twenty miles away, because a ridge divides them and there is no reason to cross it. I grew up in the flatlands of the midwest, though, where a hill can be a startling and unusual thing.
Today I am in the big, new mountains, where there are high crags and sharp angles. Sometimes I ski along and stop for a minute, and then I look out and take it in. It is breathtaking. There is light and shadow and the vague hint of danger.
Sometimes when I ski, I will track the path of someone who is a better skier than I am, tracing their cut right and left in the snow. It is shoplifting, a misdemeanor, to steal their path, and I do it because it fits the spirit of the place. People blazed trails and then others followed. The wagon tracks are still there, if you care to look. Sometimes I do one, and sometimes the other.
So let's haiku about mountains today. Here, I will go first:
There are no tracks yet
So I will make them, eager
The mountain calls out.
Now it is your turn! Just use the 5/7/5 syllable pattern, and have some fun!
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