Nightly Ritual

  

The “witching hour” approaches

I wander the gritty granite shelves,

And ledges of the slopes high above

My sleeping charges’ camp.

 

Timid night creatures’ gentle scurrying

whisper in my ears while I consider

the day that has been, and lay plans for

the day that is to be.

 

Mine is a blessedly lonely vigil,

colored by the indigo roof above me

and the granite, bark, needles and leaves

through and around which I wander.

 

Far down the narrow glacier cut valley I can hear

the ripping and rooting of the largest predator around

blissfully unaware that her territory

became mine when I set foot in its soil

 

Time and scent will bring her closer

until she will be struck by the force of my presence

and however plentiful the food sources are,

she will turn aside

 

Leaving my charges wonderfully wrapped

in the gentleness of night’s recharging sleep,

untroubled by the dark dangers 

that inhabits these mountains

 

For me, recharging is the time and space

to shed the constant concern and consideration

of the safety and logistics of motion

for a group such as this

 

Mixed levels of outdoor skills and

wilderness experience blended

together with personalities and

background dynamics

 

From skillful enough to contend with

everyday mountain environments and challenges,

to skill-less enough to starve in a grocery store parking lot,

or freeze on a San Diego August beach

 

They are my responsibility, my wards,

Mine to protect, train, harbor, and encourage,

heal and engage in the art of outdoor

safety, comfort, existence

 

Awareness flares that a silent predator

has closed in to scout my movements,

slinking on silent padded feet with

long stride and fat curved tail

 

With my expanding awareness flies

a telekinetic shockwave

hammering home the foolish error of closing

the safety of space near me

 

Claws briefly flare,

throat involuntarily utters low course growl

as she turns tail and seeks healthier climates

safer game

 

Soft winged owls and nighthawks

accompany me back down to

the last of the campfire’s red embers

that surge and ebb with each gentle gust

 

Back to my sleeping area to regain

the energy I will need on the morrow,

now that I have shed

today’s problems and fears.

 

© Copyright 2017, Marty Vandermolen, All Rights Reserved