i keep thinking i'm in a movie
or a dream
or a calendar.
or back at tarryall.
those are the only times i can reconcile this great
beauty and my participation in it.
the sounds consist of nothing but wind
through the pines and aspens, brooks
bubbling, mosquitoes humming and
birds tweeting to their kin from above.
the smells range from
musky earth to
fresh spruce to
manure on the path donated by the trail horses yesterday.
the smell of
that shouldn't be here
makes me want to jump around my comrades
"do you believe this?!
AND WE ARE IN IT!"