Dirty Man, Clean Soul

Rain and wind beat the windshield, timidity is palpable.

Courage delivers hard pavement and cold biting spray, soaking all.

Doubts. A group of optimists tilt against the wind and water hiking on.

Small trails winding deliver a verdant room of juxtaposed tranquility.

Traversing rocks at the ocean’s threshold,

then climbing steeply through sheep and cows find the respite of a pint.

Most retire, but two ascend.

Mist voraciously devours epic landscapes leaving eerie isolation and calm… a tomb.

The dividends of rain seep into our trail shoes; squish and ooze.

Fence after fence the mist dissipates, yet fences remain;

each a click on the volume dial on the ocean’s music.

The light sounds of breathing break into the aimless chatter of deep human connectedness.

Finished but not done, old tired feet and wary legs carry a dirty man and his daughter,

their souls freshly laundered,

to a new beginning and another pint.