My mother is evidently cleaning, and came across a poem I wrote after we held a family reunion in the Rockies, 50 related people (well, 49 and one boyfriend...) The oldest was my uncle B., 50, and the youngest my cousin T. who turned 5 on that trip.
As we staggered across a flat plain at the top of an enormous climb that had taken us three days, Dad announced that if we were in an airplane, we'd either be in a pressurized cabin or wearing oxygen masks. Cheery though!
I kept saying that this would be real enjoyable with a pack horse along to take the loads off...
Shortly after we returned, I wrote the following poem, which has a tune I thought at the time was original, but have since discovered was a Peruvian folk tune. No idea where I picked THAT up, but a musicologist I worked with one year recognized it right off and brought in a recording of some Indian flutes, etc. and it sure WAS the identical tune... (There were no words to what he played me, and had there been, the language would have been an Indian one, or perhaps Spanish.
It won honorable mention in one of those Poetry anthologies. I bet if I had bought COPIES, it might have done better, LOL! (I set great store by those things, obviously....)
But, the song is fun.
We hiked along the steep mountain trail,
My back weary; legs threatening to fail;
You strode in front; I stumbled in back;
You felt super; my muscles felt slack.
You exclaimed at nature's beauty with glee;
I saw another identical tree;
You drew in the crisp air lustily
As I gasped for breath, sighing disgustedly.
Your pack gave you freedom to roam;
Mine weighed me down while I longed for home;
For you, Mountain Bluebirds preened and sang;
I saw the flick of departing wings with a jealous pang.
You were invigorated by the clear, cold lake;
The icy waters were more than I could take;
You settled down to spend life content;
I returned to the city, leaving you the tent.