The Last Few Miles

The last few miles are the hardest
my feet are sore, the pack chaffs my back

Staying close to the rock face
the terror of the cliffs is soon past

The scent of the mountain pours down on me
the sun is warm, the shade is cold

I gaze out to the far mountains
across the valley so deep and low

The first stream rushes merrily onwards
it’s waters taste of ice and snow

I reach the lowlands and look back upwards
the mountain patiently waits for my return

Chuck Connors, November 7, 2007

Cold

Huddled close to the warming rays of the candle
Its feeble glow gives the illusion of heat

My belly full, a sheaf of dead writers in my hand
Lost in the past I share the moment with them

The sleepers grunt, snuffle and wheeze in their dreams
Morpheus comes not for me, not yet!

The stars wheel in their ageless rounds
The Balsams give off their Christmassy smell

A last bit of chocolate to stoke the body furnace
Its bittersweet taste lingers on my tongue

I shiver against the night, the cold in my bones
Put out the candle, time for sleep

Chuck Connors, November 6, 2007

To the Moon

Trudging along it seems this path goes on forever
Has it been that many years since I’ve been here, now?

The sharp rocks cut and bloody me like a knife
As I clamber tiredly over them inches from the void

A hawk glides over close enough to touch
I see his sharp eyes, smell his hunting smell

When will I reach the top of the mountain
Or does this path go up to the moon?

The hoarfrost is freezing in nooks and crannies
I can hear and taste the biting of the wind

Divine Principle of the Universe, Ruler of all
Give me strength and courage to reach the summit


Chuck Connors, November 6, 2007

Hate to Walk

This damn trail
little more than an animal track
takes me forever higher
amid the sharp rocks and slippery clay

Why did I come
on this foolish venture to nowhere
The top of the mountain
grows no closer to me

Around the bend
a beautiful vista
A cooling breeze
a place to rest

I hate to walk
but love to arrive
at the highest peak
the ultimate goal

Chuck Connors, October 31,2007

Into the Woods

It is the day,
the day we hike,
into the woods,
to escape from modernity.

Why am I anxious?
Do I long for the civilized life?
Or am I fearful,
of entering God’s cathedral?

Into the woods,
to the back of beyond.
Insanity can wait;
God cannot.

Chuck Connors, October 31, 2007