The Glassford Hill Hike. Poem by dave lessard

Once an ancient volcano, jutting in the air,
now just cacti and pronghorns wander there;
the morning cool and sunny, no need of talk,
we exit from the car and then, begin our walk.

Two point one miles, will take us to the top,
we figure just an hour, not counting any stop;
the trail is very wide and slightly inclines,
there's no wind to speak of, only God's sunshine.

The first mile runs a straight line... and long,
the hiking boots feel good, the legs, feel strong;
then the curving switchbacks-in all, there's eight,
the trail grows rockier and steeper... less straight.

The elevation change is around a thousand feet,
a breeze originates, and dispels the heat;
now I see the ridge, where the sky connects to land,
as we crest the hilltop, the views become more grand.

An hour and thirty-five minutes, to secure the peak,
and we have reached our goal, feeling rather...meek;
going down- and in just an hour, we reach the car,
feeling fatigued, exhilarated, to have walked so far.