The mist was in the meadows,
The sun was a rising light,
The roads were wet from rain,
that came down, during the night.
And I drove thru silent shadows,
the air now, crisp and clear,
Only the noise of the tires,
and the sight of some startled deer.
I got on the trail at seven...
the only person there;
that's fine I said to myself.
more solitude to share.
Eight thousand, five hundred feet,
at where I started out -
Up at Kendrick's Peak,
The views were long and lovely,
Made me want to shout.
(and I did, there was no one about)
Vast open landscapes of green,
Ancient volcanic cones of pine -
and the magnificent blue of an early sky!
Made my eyes sparkle and shine.
At ten thousand feet, my legs cried whoa,
You've gone just far enough -
You need not reach the summit,
You need not prove your tough.
The San Francisco Peaks were
in the distance,
and I knew there was nothing
I didn't lack,
I ate an orange
and a protein bar,
took a break...
then headed back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sounds like exciting trip