out in the mountains

central america isthmus

cabecar lands where

middlemen steal

the sun shines hot

she thanks me

mantequilla de mani

sandwich offering

we both smile

though no eye

contact is made

 

i need some desert in my cheekbones

some searing hot light that pierces me

some gritty dirt and stone under my feet

i need some hard edges that cut the sky

some lines that break the landscape

some bleakness that shouts out to me

“you don’t belong here so come on in

and walk around and make yourself

at home, intrepid stranger of recent times”

Locally, Michaux isn’t called such by many.  You might say to friends and family that you’re going mtbing at Caledonia, or up by Laurel Lake.  Some know it as South Mountain.

Another three days of riding there resulted in happiness.  I’ve always liked this poem by Wang Wei, from the 8th Century:

You Asked about My Life. I Send You, Pei Dei, These Lines.

A wide icy river floats to far uncertainty.
The autumn rain is eternal in the mist.
You ask me about Deep South Mountain.
My heart knows it is beyond white clouds.

View from atop Tumbling Run, Michaux State Forest, PA (aka South Mountain)

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