The hike to the waterfall 

multiplied 

my fear of falling by 

my fear of passing out from exhaustion.

 

The hills climbed like 

terra cotta slices of cheesecake 

cut for giants. To the south, hoodoos ringed 

like wedding cake, encrusted with 

shimmering slices of Anjou Pear.

 

“She’s better at hiking 

than she used to be,” Mike said.

“She made it further 

than I expected,” Leilani said.

“She didn’t stop; 

she’s right behind us,” said Celine.

 

I missed 

my dogs.  I missed 

the way they would tug at the leash to 

propel me toward good smells.  I missed 

the way they would tug behind when they felt 

something looked dangerous or difficult.

 

Dwarfed by the stone cliffs, I felt 

like a gnat 

at the Marin Farmers’ Market.  The sky and stone 

weighed heavily on my soul.

 

My mind clawed at 

purple seas armed with 

chisels slashing at the 

                                              landscape.