REFLECTIONS
The lambent sun burnishes Cannon’s cliffs
As we draw near Franconia Notch and then
The rock slide screes are sparkling as if
A Titan’s eyes are focusing on them.
Past the verdant vacant ski slopes, Echo
Lake, the “Old Man-Reimagined” park,
Over the top of the notch we gladly go
To reach our destination before dark.
Would that all our trails might emerge into light
And not be dangerous or fraught with gloom.
Let all our journeys be to mountain heights
Ever toward the heavens, not the tombs.
Then might our little lives be richly blessed
Unfettered by fear and warmed with happiness.
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