Kerouac Never Had Views Like These

Ivy, Kudzu, and dreams of mountain views, they cling to the trees as I climb the steep Blue Ridge mountain trail.

My backpack gets lighter the higher I climb.
Water bottles get emptied and traded for mole skin notebook pages filled.

I take a rest on a wildflower field filled with blue, green, red, and a thousand shades of yellow since spring.
I reflect on past treks up this steep ascent.

I have traveled far and many miles on many days to conquer this trail.
The granite face view only changes a few times a year.

Granite mountain tops are made for reflection all their own.
Gorges, valleys, treetops, and that strange cell phone tower in the landscape add a distinctive story.

I walk the face all alone.
I stack some rocks in the brush to mark my journey.
I set a camera for delay and stand back for my portrait.

A hornets nest is my only company.
I admire their solitude and adventurous spirit to make a home all the way on top of the world.
I smile, take a picture, and send a non invasive wink their way.

I wipe my brow clean of the summer sweat and pack away my mole skin for words on another day.
I take one last look at the summer splendor I own in this hour before sunset.
I become mindful of the wonders of the world, and my life’s journey forward as I prepare my ankles for the journey down the rocky trail.