Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hills
Not a creature was stirring, well maybe the squirrels
The backpacks were stuffed and loaded with care,
In hopes that trail snacks soon would be there;
The hikers were nestled all snug on their trails;
With visions of mountains and past hike regales;
When out in the field there arose such a clatter,
I opened my phone to capture what was the matter.
Something had spooked them, the fled in a flash,
Dancing and prancing so quickly they dash.
The sun on the crest of the century old rock,
Sunrise is best fore the first birds will squawk,
When what to my wandering trails have I chosen,
The lakes in the mountains have already frozen,
More rapid than some but slower than others,
They’d all be down hill, if I had my druthers.
But winter or summer or spring or in fall
The trails are inviting, come one and come all.
The visions and silence are found in the woods
The distance we traveled, not sure if we could
Marmots, and moose and bears share the turf
We all feel much better, connected to Earth.
Footsteps are lost in the snow that has covered
The sounds of the forest begin to be smothered
Feeling all nestled and warm in my coat
As nimble with spikes as a wandering goat.
Minutes and hours the time barely passes
Through fields and streams and even crevasses.
We wander, and scramble until we are lost
Further we go till the point of exhaust
Just as we’ve gone so far, neer out of site
We turn and exclaim, merry Christmas to all and to all a good hike.