Dru Philippou
October Light
all the leaves all at once aspen rain
While descending from the lakes one afternoon, I met a family without warm clothing or water. The two teenage boys, in T-shirts and shorts, carried a long stick between them with a large, weighty sack slung in the middle. Things they easily could have hauled in backpacks.
I should have told them to turn back, that the air is thinner the higher they go, causing shortness of breath and headaches. That there is twice as much ultraviolet radiation. That mountain weather can change without warning. Graupel can strike any moment. Strong winds may throw them off balance. The cold might blunt their sense of touch before the sun reappears.
new notes in the river’s song snow stars
I did tell them the lakes were icing over. They had three more miles to go. The final mile was steep and rocky, requiring some scrambling. And, even if they managed to get there, they’d be hiking down in darkness and freezing temperatures.
The mother didn’t want to give up, at least not yet, despite being informed they were on the wrong trail and heading for the San Leonardo Lakes. Bewildered, the father started to sketch a map with his finger in the dirt.
Still, they climbed into the alpine, where I spent an hour by the crystal clear water, mirroring the sheer granite slopes. Where a covey of startled grouse rose from tawny grasses into the champagne-colored sunlight. Where rose crowns blared crimson in their hurried seasonal transformation. Where gray jays were always there for company.
I should have told them to turn back when I saw their little white terrier following behind.
last sunbeams gild the canyon wall vanishing shadows
About the Author
Dru Philippou lives in northern New Mexico, where hiking in the desert wilderness nourishes her spirit and her writing. Her haibun “Afterlife” won first place in the Haiku Society of America’s 2021 Haibun Awards. Also, her haibun “Pilgrimage” won first place in 2023 in the same contest. She is the author of A Place to Land, a tanka prose memoir.