Beloved Mountain Top (Poem)

A poem inspired by hiking Algonquin Peak in the Adirondacks and my eagerness to return.

The 4am alarm comes like a thief in the night,

lost in peaceful dreams under those cozy warm sheets,

- not a trace of daylight.

Bittersweet.

Like a nostalgic childhood memory excitement abounds,

as I steal a glance at my backpack by the door,

- packed the night before.

Impatiently awaiting those beautiful mountain sounds.

Daydreams fill the hurried scenic drive,

of the breathtaking sights on my adventure ahead.

Something so indescribable so I will leave it unsaid.

But I've never felt so alive,

on that winding backroad speed limit of fifty-five.

I have arrived.

The sound of my tires on the destined gravel is music to my ears,

the rising sun above the trees aglow,

- the trailhead so near.

And I softly whisper to myself,

"At last, I'm here."

And I go.

At first, my heart drums intensely in my chest,

loud and fast.

And my legs are heavy until they finally awaken,

but this too shall pass.

Soon everything succumbs to the intrepid exploration,

and my body proceeds on the trail unshaken

- that wonderful desired state of acclimation.

With one foot in front of the other,

I know that I am becoming one step closer.

That though I cannot view the peak from here,

I relate to my faith;

something I cannot see but I know is there.

It is near.

No fear.

And I listen to that sweet sounding mountain music,

nature's symphony whistling away,

- gently filled with melodic increases and decreases.

How rewarding it is to become so withdrawn.

Captivated by God's mountain masterpieces,

I happily carry on.

At the top of the rock slide I see the treeline begin to break,

and my heart begins to anxiously ache,

- a longing desire to reach the top.

To feel so small.

In awe of it all.

Just a little while longer.

The sunlight kisses my skin,

and I smile because I am finally here again,

- the pinnacle in sight.

And I pause to breathe in that balsam fir scented air,

to admire the height,

to feel gravity pulling my weight into the trail beneath my feet,

I am complete.

Almost there.

I proceed on the aisle of cairns,

created by the likeminded folk before me to help them safely return.

These metaphorical lanterns that show you the way,

follow them,

for they will not lead you astray.

And as I reach the summit at last,

overwhelmed by all of the yearning emotions of the past,

I stand still.

I peer out before me at the other mountain tops swirled,

and I think to myself,

"My goodness, what a wonderful world."

I look out at the bluest blues I've ever seen,

they perfectly complement the distant mountain tops of green.

And those thoughts of calmness and serenity,

so wild and free,

they profoundly pervade;

What an immaculate sight before me,

so majestically displayed.

But today I open my eyes,

and I realize,

that I am surrounded by the buzz of this small-town coffee shop instead,

so very far away from the enriching summit and the hopeful trailhead.

I am there only in my thoughts and in my written words,

with the fresh mountainous air, the trees and the birds.

And though this cafe has a liveliness of its own,

I long for the day that starts with a 4am alarm in the morn,

and ends with the soul-stirring rewards of hiking up stone

- I shall return.

Until that day comes, I will be there in my mind,

relying on photographs and memories of the past;

to help speed up the intermediate time.

To stand where I once stood,

- a rocky hiking trail surrounded by wood.

To be where my mind impatiently wanders to in this small town coffee shop,

back on that serene summit of my most beloved mountain top.