Soft breezes gently lift
These old thin hairs on my head
Floating in slow motion

Fog rolls in quietly
The cunning wit of veiled doom
Or perhaps a false perception

Obscurity brings the anxious pangs
Unknown, why do you visit me?
Do you think
I do not know what lies beyond your pale?

Closing my weary eyes
I see beyond you
Your shroud has been torn away

Courage is not absent of fear
Moving forward
In spite of it

The Road In

Before you get
To the gettin’
Where the cars line up
And parking is impossible
Standing before monoliths
Like ants before boulders

A few miles short of the entrance to Yosemite Valley… a simple meadow