It’s the time of year when the boughs of Jeffrey pines bend under the weight of green cones oozing resin that drips on the forest floor, on a boulder, or on the hat of the occasional passer-by, like the sweat from their brow drips on the trail, on their boots, or on the pages of a sketchbook. 

Gray summer stillness
through clouds of flies
buzzing, views of Mount Baldy

Three cups of tea, three views of Mount Baldy (also known as San Antonio), from each of the three T’s (Mounts Timber, Telegraph and Thunder), and three totally trite attempts at trail poetry.

Mozzies attacking
three bites a minute
August mountain peacefulness

It’s not often I’ve reached a rugged, exposed summit like Telegraph when the breeze was lesser than what the microphone on the smartphone picks up, which made for a warm day, sweetly punctuated by a canteen refill at the Columbine spring, and a hammering cold shower under the San Antonio falls. 

Silent summer heat
ice-cold spring water 
sun, shade, nature takes and gives