“Fifteen dollars,” he said,
which widened my eyes.
I knew there’d be a fee
but the amount was a surprise.
Reaching for my wallet,
I discovered I had plenty,
for with the receipts,
two ones and a twenty.
Doubting my chances,
I asked if he had change,
believing that way out here
would be too far out of range.
But he took my Andrew Jackson
and ambled to the gate,
returning a fiver
after a short wait.
“Have you been here before?”
he asked with a drawl.
“Oh, yes,” I confirmed, “many times”
I’ve felt the wild call.
“But today,” I continued,
“I’m here for something new.
Something different than
what others aim to do.
My plan is to head up
a less travelled peak.
One that few climbers wish to go
and less will ever seek.”
“Do you know the one I have in mind?”
I asked, raising my chin.
“I think I know,” he said,
“where to begin.”
Then he showed me the way
on the park’s beaten map,
and smiling, I thanked him,
and left him to his nap.
— ❧ —
Poetry Inspiration
This poem was born from a single thought I had about waiting for my change, after paying to enter a park. It occurred to me that every effort, every new trail, is about trying to exact some change—some growth—and there are times in life, much to our chagrin, that we might have to wait for those changes to come.
The delays we experience are well represented by the effort it takes to get to and up a mountain. You might have a two-hour drive, or you might have to wait for access into the park. Maybe you have to circle back to a store because you didn’t bring the right gear and you’re unprepared for the weather. Whatever they are, these little delays or hindrances, are the gates we have to pass through in order to realize the changes we want. But the changes will come as long as we continue to make the drives.