Dan, my friend, this one’s for you

the shards of vitreous rock are sharp, as i trek across them,

my synthetic soles cause their forms to clash, giving sound 

like breaking pottery in this quiet place

like puzzle pieces, shapes oblong, all flat, 

with colors of pewtered dishware, 

if i were to take a fall, my body's weight, backpack an' all, 

i'd no doubt cut one or the other, forearms' flesh, gashed to the bone,

bleed profusely, tourniquet time, up to dan my stalward friend, 

to twist and bind, abort the climb, head back down, eschew gangrene

but in the meantime no such thing has happened yet, 

owing to nimbleness of twists and turns of my ankles, 

combined in harmony with shins' muscles, 

calves an' thighs working in tandem, rhythmically, 

sweet motion of body and brain,

over this other worldly like terrain, 

but it's really here on earth, mineral king, california, 

sky's so blue, 

besides it's high altitude, 

dizzies my senses due it's beauty, 

carries me aloft to other platitudes, 

aptly named region place, part of spine of high sierra, 

mesmerized, i return to the sound of clashing's impacting,

mixed with some crunch at times of loose grains of rocky bits below, 

tinking somewhat muffled tunes of volcanic geologic strains of music, 

to my silence starved inner ear that seeks fragments of nature's lovely voice

devoid of our machines that grind their raucous din everywhere down below

each step over these broken brittle rocks on upward slant of plane

brings ever closer of higher gain of ground to very top of summit

and there as before, we'll build an air starved, small of fire,

with bits of scanty rare and ancient pine

we'll burn its skeletal twisted form; its precious wood to turn to burn 

smoking molecules rise in red, bring back its spirit long gone ago

glowing sparks back to life, rise up even higher, 

to mix with the thin, low pressure air there and give life again

to trees long dead, come alive again by our combustion's ire

high atop this mountain plain, band of remoteness few gain,

for the height and heat is no child's play

i light my cigar and sip my wine, carried high, 

worth every bit of worth their weight,

dan, my friend, does his own partake, 

lights it almost religiously and deeply draws 

for his to mix with mine,

from the same bottle we drink, 

into the same breath we partake and exhale slow and long

we stare at rock mountain foundations with summit peaks all around

as fade of day and dusk draws near, 

its shadowing veil, subtly wisps itself surrounds

brings us back at everything we've seen and taken in,

by our senses to the journey here, thus far

our camp, first night, so high, and then, 

back at each other's eyes

we stare deeply taking in

each other's souls, 

no words exchanged but smiles, 

smirks of quiet solitude,

the tobacco's smoke like rare and precious incense,

the wine, like elixir to tired flesh and bone 

infusing every pore 

the two combined work their magic, 

make us one with each other and this wild place