Icy Tamanawas. Photo by Tim Graves (Creative Commons License BY-NC-ND 3.0)
Icy Tamanawas. Photo by Tim Graves (Creative Commons License BY-NC-ND 3.0)

Walking beside the azure water,
the glacial melt bubbles & foams,
and icicles cling to logs.

Winter hangs in the morning air,
cowering beneath the fir-ry needles,
and hard-cold boulders.

Undeterred, mustard light oozes,
through the bare branched tree-kin,
spicing the frosted trail with its spring warmth.

This is the way.
This is the incline.
This is the switchback and bridge,
to the holy baptistry.

The sacred waters of the grotto,
lure me forward with a roar and glimpse.

Standing, I open the doors of the alcove.
Standing, I gasp at the crystalline love,
blanketing each boulder, cluster of moss, and tree.

Standing, I kneel before the divine,
as mist settles upon my skin washing away trail dust.

Breathing, the mist flows through my lungs, into my bloodstream, baptizing heart and soul.

 

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