April 23, Morning

Ugh – busy, busy day today. But I took a moment to write my poem about “morning.” It was a beautiful morning the the pacific northwest…


Morning in the Mist

The most beautiful morning
I can remember
was in the Jefferson Wilderness
in the Pacific Northwest.

We’d hiked in the day before
with me and two boy scouts
and one man.
Plus 12 silly girls and 3 moms.
I remember feeling I just didn’t belong
not only because the girls
were so silly (they’d brought
curling irons
and hair dryers
for the hike)
but because I got along so much better
with the grownups.

My tent?
A tarp I strung between a couple trees.
I had a ground cloth,
the rain was light and
besides, the trees deflected
most of it
high above.

And that way, I didn’t have to hear
the ceaseless chatter, chatter, chatter
all night because no one wanted to share
my crude shelter.
(Well, save a squirrel I caught
robbing my pack. I let him have
some granola.)

I slept fine.

The sun came up early, and the mist
was rising when I got up
and took a walk by the lake
and watched the sun come up
over the mountains.

I felt touched by God.

2 thoughts on “April 23, Morning

  1. Oy, is dis beautiful! I loved the ending – kind of made me feel like I was there too. Great poem, lady!

  2. OH, Diana. That last line. Gorgeous. I have been there, and that is exactly it. Nature is such a touchstone and pathway to worship for me! 🙂 Love this.

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