RUCKSACK
A thirty pound pack
feels light on a
well worn back
but since I haven’t
hiked in years
I might as well
be carrying the sun.
In the end
it will be worth it,
when my head breaks
above the treeline
and distant peaks
seem like neighbors,
then I will smile
and say, this is good.
But, for now,
I’ll have to contend
with screaming feet
and tender toes,
always keeping in mind
the sight of sunrise,
knowing that somewhere
below the sky
the sun trudges up
a similar path,
up and over
the horizon,
where he will briefly
make camp and call
the morning good.
PS
Have enough poems to complete a little chapbook I’ve been working on. If I printed a limited run, would that be something you’d be interested in? Let me know!
-Ryan