Issue #177 - Medicine Bow National Forest, Wyoming, July 23-26, 2020
Departure from Boulder - photo by Paige
haiku and photos by jonathan, except where noted
(photo by Phoenix)
without my dear wife
i take the kids backpacking
solitude for her
searching for camp spot
we settle on a rough road
next to a river
packing up wet tents
before the trip even starts
not a great omen
the anxiety
of managing kids’ camping
dropping by the creek
nestled between rocks
pale lavender columbine
swaying in the wind
thursday: a trickle
friday: a few more people
saturday: a crowd
not chopping wood
but hoisting treated water
back up to the camp
tent fabric drying
memories of morning rain
evaporating
asters’ perfection
the concentrated color
green and magenta
last winters’ snowfield
over icy rivulet
melts in July sun
always so pristine
when visited by so few -
leave no trace behind
embracing chaos:
living with children and pets
or flying to planets
on the second night
we roast old snowmobile parts
in a blazing fire
dad is annoying
making us write a haiku
no, i don’t want to (phoenix)
dad
yesterday I got
twenty thousand steps (phoenix)
looking for the crow
i lean way back and realize
it’s about to rain (packit)
with birds a-chirping
and mosquitoes a-buzzing
yet stillness seeps in (tom)
white granite, lakes, snow
and campfire memories
a perfect weekend (rich)
(photo by Orion)
dad the chuck wagon
never-ending kid hunger
food, food, food, food, food… (group)
some hikers with masks
hop off the trail to allow
the maskless to pass
forgot pot gripper
and along with it, the beer -
pour tea with old gloves
taking a moment
enjoying the perfection of rocks
copper green and red
waiting for our friends
she scans the trail below us
with binoculars
freezing late at night
in my 30-year old bag
that has no more down
wilderness refuge
and the viral pandemic
nowhere to be seen
during pandemic
hikers flock to the foothills
and populate trails
walking the great ridge
from Medicine Bow to camp
Gap lakes far below
liter of whiskey
brought by gregarious youth
with leather jacket
not a one-stick dog
Bruno the Belgian Malinois
wants another toss
jupiter’s three moons
and our own waxing crescent -
where is the comet?
hoping the clouds lift
so we can see the comet -
more logs on the fire
playing hackey sock
because we forgot the sack
unpredictable
campfire ritual
we stand close, warmed by the fire
burning viral fears
leaving camp behind
moving forward with our packs
back to the trailhead