For National Poetry Month: A Poem by Cindy Brookshire

Ridge Walk

by Cindy Brookshire

Color kicks off the peak leaf season

On the Blue Ridge Parkway

Loosed from gated retirement communities

The ladies with their leisure jackets

The men with their plaid flat-fronts

Barely pause their luxury cars in caravans

at the crowded overlooks

To snap quick iPhone images

In their winding rush to line up for tables

at Milepost 176

Where water pleads over wooden wheel

And the buckwheat stacks and country ham

Call them back to Dan, Virginia

and Mabry Mill.

I think you miss the real mountains

When your feet never leave the asphalt

Don’t they remember boots hugging the trail?

Breaking the first step of morning

with dewy webs against cool skin?

Fighting loose rock to gain foot holds

Avoiding the stinging nettles,

Soaking sweat with bandanas,

Breath hot, straining

Ascending, twisting, pushing on

The lofty vista, and finally, the easy ridge walk

Spotting a deer – shh! – watching

With mutual respect as the wild thing

crunches brown against green

And leaps away

Majestic with muscular power?

I’d rather hike, my love

Pick blueberries, stir up pancakes,

Cook over a small fire

Sleep under the stars

Feel the mountains

Beneath me.