The couple of many birthdays
hikes on gravel and scree
between meadows of faded lupine
where borders of pink fireweed
and scores of feathery pasqueflowers
spread out in what’s left of summer.
They lean against the wall of rock
to let youthful hikers pass.
She checks her steps on steady rocks,
he avoids looking down
as they approach another switchback.
When they reach the vista,
he stops to peruse the receding glacier.
She snaps photos
before a cloud erases peak.
Expectant chipmunks scamper near
for mislaid nuts and raisins.
She spreads sunscreen on her cheeks,
the back of his neck, his ears
while they discuss the shorter
or the longer trail. They choose the extra mile.
He moves toward loose shale
and takes the dicey slope slow,
as she maneuvers without his past assistance.
He steadies himself with both hands
close to the steep slag and tuff.
A young man offers help,
to which the elder says, “Thanks, I’ll be okay.”
The younger stands aside but waits a moment
until the elder returns to ambling ease.
All hike on and some take photos of a marmot
as they lose the glacier in the shadow.
Her walking sticks mark time.
Once back on the paved many-peopled path,
the couple heads off to find their Subaru
somewhere in the overflow and picnic parking lot
that takes them extra walking time to find.
A bit stiff, they stop at the Ukrainian restaurant
in Ashford to celebrate her birthday,
text scenic photos to their son and daughter.
Mary Ellen Talley’s poems have appeared in many journals including Louisville Review, Deep Wild, and Trampoline as well as in multiple anthologies. Her chapbooks are: “Postcards from the Lilac City” from Finishing Line Press, “Taking Leave” from Kelsay Books, and “Infusion” online at Red Wolf Journal. She resides in Seattle, WA and worked for many years as a school-based speech/language pathologist (SLP.) Her website is www.maryellentalley.com.
Banner image is courtesy the poet.
