There is a place for solitude
somewhere apart, space
to let the mind run with options,
to explore the unknown,
circle and find new perspective
before gravitating home.
Singing in the backcountry,
my horse and mules
the only souls to hear for days
when I was seventeen, in love
with possibility, the words
fell into place like water
in a river, spontaneous lines
reaching out to touch the tops
of trees and granite peaks
I would never climb—
a place to let the mind run
without a smart phone.
drycrikjournal 