Road Prong in High Summer
I walk up Road Prong,
the path that follows
the dancing stream
down the mountain
and heralds the best way to a gap,
and thus to the other side of the mountain,
every time I walk here, I reach to remember millennia of people,
who, after the Great Ice, found the same way my feet find today,
every moment is new,
yet moments can echo the steps of those before,
I love to feel the continuity
that can pull the past into the present,
every step on this path
calls up a hundred centuries
of our brothers and sisters
blending the practicality of getting from here to there
with the devastating beauty along this high way.
by Henry H. Walker
July 20, ‘18
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