Sliding Down Clark Peak

Late in May I had to have some mountain relief

and packed my pup tent and backpack with

some food, then headed up to Cameron Pass

overlooking Poudre Canyon, and after a chilly

night’s sleep under cold stars where I could

hear pumping blood coursing through my veins,

I arose and perked some coffee and ate a bowl

of granola, shouldered my pack and picked my

way up the tundra slopes of Clark Peak laced

with fields of snow under a bright and rising sun

that glistened off the needles of treeline-spruce

hugging windy terrain filled with high-pitched

squeaks of marmots and pikas awakening from

a long winter’s sleep. On the summit I could see

the Noku Crags of the Never Summers and into

the vast North Park rimmed with Mount Zirkel.

Instead of testing the strength of my knees going

down such a steep descent, I removed my now

empty pack and used it as a cushion to slide all

the way down a serpentine vein of icy snow, going

very slow like a Hindu mystic sitting on a magic

carpet taking in what the natural world had in store.