I sit, with aching bones, astride
my one and only friend
and let him pick his way to where
the river has to bend,
then, down among the Aspens, to
a camp we've used before,
a place of peace and solitude
along the river shore,
a refuge, far from yesterday,
to ponder by and by,
to council with the summer breeze,
the river and the sky.
I make my camp and lay me down
to contemplate the sight
the ever-changing splendor of
the endless starry night.
I trail downstream in memory
to where I've been of late
then, up the stream of time I ride
to ponder, there, my fate.
Tomorrow's track may bring me to
a rapid or a fall.
I wonder, should I chase my dreams,
if fate will bend at all.
Against the sky stand ancient hills
in ghostly silhouette;
the massive guards of nature's camp
eternal, standing yet,