Four miles up into the mist
mountaintops tip homage
to their maker. The trail floor
springs back - meeting every
step with years and years
of cushioned forest loam. Ferns,
bracken and berries soften the edge
of the shady path I follow to
Hart Lake. I go by myself -
to see it different. I pray. I sing.
I listen. My heart pounds when
I see signs of a bear who recently
passed through, foraging as he
went. The water falling down
granite walls imbues me with
energy and enthusiasm.
The lake gives me peace like
a much needed transfusion. On
the way back, I stop to eat lunch -
then hitch my hammock between
two trees by Horse Ford and
swing to the rhythm of water
rushing over rocks. It's nice
to be lonely alone.
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