Thoughts and Poems are the Same Thing

Backpacking in the Adirondacks

There I was, hanging off the mountain

Gripping cables, white knuckles

Sunshine pouring down, a fountain

"What am I doing?" Nervous, chuckles

Summiting two high peaks, one day

thighs burn, sun burn, whipping wind

I look up, smile, bald eagle, sway

hands dry, boots muddy, both knees skinned

"I'm the queen of the world," I yell

hanging off the side of the mountain,

"Yes you are," he smiles, all is well

my laughter pouring down, a fountain.