Mt Washburn

Sheep and Coyote Way Up Mt. Washburn

the sturdy tower at the top looks like it’s close,

our aging bodies beg to differ,

as they toil miles up the ever-climbing trail,

flowers grace the rail, as do patches of snow,

a boon to parents whose kids feel their magic:

a few snowballs, of course, are thrown,

at the top we are told mountain sheep

graze just over a rise below the tower,

we take the gentle trail around the ridge,

and there about a dozen sheep eat and consider,

each new person worth an alert focus,

eyes intent and bodies ready to bolt,

some seem to pose at the edge of the rise,

blue sky and distant snow-capped mountains their backdrop,

as we meander away

another shape, gray and substantial,

comes over the rise and parallels my course,

it’s a beautiful, full-pelted coyote,

who must have checked out the sheep for a straggler,

coyotes are always wishful in their thinking,

he moves with determination, almost a trot,

and heads down the mountain, including over a patch of snow,

I get a picture of him and his tracks in the white,

our bodies made it, and we are tired,

our souls made it, and they are renewed and energized.

by Henry H. Walker

July 10, ’17