Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal.
Visiting Mountains
The plains ignore us,
but these mountains listen,
an audience of thousands
holding its breath
in each rock. Climbing,
we pick our way
over skulls of small talk.
On the prairies below us,
the grass leans this way and that
in discussion;
words fly away like corn shucks
over fields.
Here, lost in a mountains
attention, there’s nothing to say.
poem by Ted Kooser
Paintbrush Divide, Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming.
I love this poem for many reasons, but today it reminds me especially of my father.
It doesn’t matter who else ignores me, because I always know that you’ll listen.
It doesn’t matter if we have anything to say, because we don’t really need words.
Thanks for showing me why it’s important to get lost in the mountains.
Thanks for teaching me how to climb the mountains I come across, and how to decide which ones are worth climbing.
Thanks for being my mountain, Dad. I love you.
