a humid mid-day climb
through clouds of gnats
up to a high ridgetop breeze
and the drone of deerflies
beside the trail a street map
in a mined-out witch hazel leaf
on the northwest horizon
where i walked earlier in the week
this mountain had been
the southeast limit of my view
and now without thinking about it
here i am in the haze
i find a coyote calling card
nestled in the rocks
a black-throated green warbler
regurgitates a caterpillar
green for its red-
mouthed fledgling
a dry rattle
and i am briefly airborne
before i even spot the snake
crossing the trail ahead
the unhurried whispery flow of her
over the stones
dappled and dapper
in patterned velvet
i follow with my phone out
as my pulse returns to normal
a netwing beetle flies past
without stopping
spongy moths flutter like spirits
between the oaks
which dwindle year by year
replaced by maples
but some of the old ones
manage to weather
the total loss of their heartwood
to lightning and rot
hollow yet strong
harboring a wild inner life
i surprise a large family of turkeys
foraging on the ridgetop
the mother runs downhill
the poults fly into the treetops
thunder in the distance
finds an echo in my stomach
i down handfuls of blueberries
from a patch of sunlight
on Brewer’s Trail just below the crest
there’s a white sand spring
i soak my fisherman’s hat
in its only pool
descend the mountain dripping
like a small cloud
