I.
Hiking at seventy-three, the next ridge
looks like the last if you allow yourself
to think how Twain, robust as he was,
died in bed at seventy-four.
As a young man you were able
to tackle mountains by the ankles, not
even deer trails needed for steep ascents,
and afterwards surfing down the scree.
Now you need a pair of hiking sticks
and trails that aren’t too uneven or full
of loose rocks that can seem obstructive
as obstinate boulders standing their ground.
II.
This path takes no evasive action, though
leaf-hidden drops surprise as much as watery
dips on Disney’s pirate ride. Above me, in
a canopy I cannot see, birds peck at serenity.
When I lived in northern California, I trod
several miles to Feather Falls, carrying a tired
toddler all the way—no bad knees then, or
rubbery legs inclined to catch unawares.
For days I’ve been mostly exploring
the aisles at Wegmans, stocking up
on indulgences that a rule-follower can
eat only in the kitchen, or on the porch.
III.
My hike is a sea change, escape from single-
minded purpose, fulfilling a need to insert
myself into spectacular scenes after looking
at them from the Quarry Farm porch.
A new sailing venture rejuvenated Twain
to the point of denial: And I’m a young buck,
he told the press, over seventy-one years
young at that—the first stage of five reactions
in patients informed they were dying.
But aren’t we all terminal—entitled
to whatever creative, self-indulgent
pretense seems necessary?
IV.
When the telephone was invented, the press sought
the opinion of Twain, who said “Every time
I see or hear a new wonder like this I have to post-
pone my death right off.” Newness has that effect.
I appreciate my novel surroundings, but I am not
stealthy. Animals give a berth needlessly wide,
and I too am surprised to hear wet twigs crunch,
given Twain’s complaint about Cooper: It is a restful
chapter in any book of his when somebody doesn’t
step on a dry twig and alarm folks for two hundred
yards. Laughing as I stumble, I wonder if anyone
can hear, or if I’m only another falling tree.
