A Walker, I

a walker, I. A walker fancying himself a hiker, on a walk, self-narrated as an expedition. The incline is gentle, consistent, insistent and yet i insist, as i am inclined to do, to think it steeper. In fact, to think deeper, about most things. a walker, I. Ponderosa and Pinyon Pines, with greens so dark they suckle the sun of light give way as i make my way lumberingly and less-than-limberly uphill. From thick, ruddy-red-brown barks, I rise through Ponderosa Pines, then, needle-darkening, the Pinyon mothering the Juniper. Clambering up the hardscrabble rubble- canyon walls a silent fortress for sounds- shades most welcome. a walker, I. The time-twisted Pinyon well below. The needles, never solo, their groupings of twos, of three, in fives have fallen away from my view- as their cones'll do. The cones, some in pairs, in all their very many scents and stickinesses; in all their very many shapes and sizes and sometimes pairings, have also come and gone, as I'd come and gone. Their underfoot crunchings've long since had their echoes lost in this land; as am I, lost in this land. a walker, I. and now, the Aspen. my breath drawn out, a tenuous, tremulous quaking and lost to the stones. it could be the elevation. it could be the exertion. it could, of course, be the Aspen. a walker, I. i take a knee. for breath? for study? no. a genuine genuflection. my mouth, agape these eyes, wider still. words of marvel, of awe, of God. and no mere psittacism this. nose to ground, eyes to Sky; i cry a silent cry sans why. a walker, I. among the chartreuse green. among the white trunks the Autumn yellows buried (burrowed?) beneath these greens; Oh! these greens! I kneel. I feel. I feel. I kneel. a walker, I. now within this faithless chapel parchment white, dappled by darkened eyes a thousand thousand thousand eyes. kindly ignoring, kindly witnessing...me nonconscious meditation! egoless contemplation! a pullulation of elation-ululation interruption of 'me'; irruption in 'me' eruption of me. a walker, I. I am anew within this tree. For a stand of Aspen is One Tree. and I stand, and kneel within one tree and yet, trees seem to be all around. a walker, I. I found a journey on a walk. I found the epic in the prosaicicity of an afternoon jaunt. I found the many within the One. I found one within the Many. I found me within a tree.