Journey Back To High Camp

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 Journey Back To High Camp


High Camp is a land higher than mine
Ten-thousand feet closer to The Great Beyond.
To arrive there, I fly, tarry, drive.
To return, I sneak out, hike the hill alone.
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Two miles through the woods, the flowers I now name,
The women, loud and strong, march to a tree-lined scene.
The wildness sinks into you there. I’m not the same. 
I carry smells I can’t unsmell, names of poets like me.
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Ancient amphibious lizards’ bath floats
Amidst marshy meadows covered in green.
I lay in yellow flower moats,
Behind all my questions, by her I’m seen. 
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There is magic there, if you dare. All things
you fully do are an alone journey. 

In response to the prompt "The Odyssey, 13th Annual Getaway 2006"  by Peter Murphy found in his collection called Challenges for the Delusional, edited by Christine Malvasi.  

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