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. - 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. - 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. - There is magic there, if you dare. All things you fully do are an alone journey. I n 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 .