The Wanderer - Poem

The Wanderer

The wanderer wonders am I a dispirited figure?

Why am I here, sitting alone in the mist of the elements?

Far far away from those things that really matter.

Looking up at the light pollution free sky

The wonders of Stars and solar bodies lights my mind,

But for wandering here, I alone feel the spirit, or

It could be I share the experience with other wanderers

In distant places.

If not, why am I here?

From my perch, my heightened senses hear a Coyote.

He sings his song in a wailing cacaphoneny,

The hair on my neck stands up, but I am not afraid.

Bare breasted I walk a Grand Canyon trail

Eight five degrees in the shade, when over the cliffs crest

Two inches of snow falls on me in a five-minute blast.

I have seen, felt and heard so much,

But for what good is it

If here, alone, I turn to dust?

by EJ Hall - All rights reserved.