Cathedral Rock Poem by Joseph Martin III

I didn't want to be here.
I wanted to be over there-
bounding up the big mountain
light of foot with an effortless display
that proves I am not old.

But someone moved the trail sign.

So here I am,
aching legs and wheezing chest,
having smoked half a pack
on the way up.

I am greeted atop this rock by one small priest,
then two, then three, with four paws each
and frocks of short brown fur.
They look through curious expectant eyes
as I sit down and offer them a trail mix tithe.

The canyon below spreads out like dreams of my youth,
without horizon or end, no knowledge of the darkening sky,
or the swift stern storms that sweep through in summer.
Far below there are people, talking,
talking of war,
of love,
of death,
of a thousand important things
that we feel have to be said.

Here on Cathedral Rock,
the eager priests eat, scurry, and leap about,
the sun is warm,
and a cool breeze blows.

8/19/2004 rev 8/26/2005