A palm just scrapes the nape of your neck;
skies endless blue and a cradle of oak
branching off in every direction
The singsong of quality time
(You’d think there was someone
As we rounded the upper trails
You urged, “Go ahead,”
“I’ll catch my breath.”
& I never saw you again.
Note: I am quite fascinated with the ongoing, unexplained cases of missing people in national parks, though I cannot translate their horror. My heart goes with each family touched by a situation like this.