In the mirror, in the photographs, a much older man.
Near my ramshackle house is a railroad track,
Still in use with several freight trains a day,
Either direction. If I had my ‘young strength’ again
I would load my frame pack and walk that line north.
Mount Shasta, Oregon, Washington, Canada.
I would walk until I got tired and then I would rest
In the shade of the evergreen trees; pine, fir, red alder.
Hidden by bayberry and shallon shrubs, I would sleep.
Daytime, nighttime, what’s the difference, really?
The idea of giving up all of my absurd ambitions
Seems like a gift to me now. A Christmas present.
The winter sky at night. A cold storm blows in.
I raise my arms up to heaven; love and compassion.
Then emptiness. No thought at all
Is the best thought after all.