Patches of pink on army green -
the rhododendrons bloom.
In the hills of Himalaya -
gone the sad winter gloom.
Gone the weight of weary sinew -
the soul begins its float.
We feel the fire of shining skies
as we shed pack and coat.
The body, so still and silent -
nonetheless takes to dance.
The hike's exhaustion falls away
and one tunes in the trance.