Find and Seek

by Greg

Late late late summer. Slipping into autumn. Or slipped. Up the mountain. Into the grey. Into the rain. Muddy truck track. Soggy foot trail. Then no trail at all. The rain falls cold. The rain falls hard. Cold. Hard. Not rain at all. But the frozen white bite of hail that hits and bounces and gathers. Dogs run faster to dodge the cold.

We slog and clamber. Scuff and bend. Scanning. Looking. Find fall colors. Find fallen leaves. Find secret views between the trees. But also we find. Nothing.

Then we do. Tucked into the forest. Between lichen and ice. The rumpled head. The fluted stalk. The peachy glow. With cold wet fingers. With bright-edged knife. We pull it free. Then seek others. Then find others. Nearly hidden. Their glow gathered.

We have come to the mountain seeking. We have come to the mountain to find. Not only the means to a dinner. But more. To find fall colors. Find fallen leaves. Find secret views between the trees.