Echo Lake Pequannock Watershed

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climbing old mountains

Being an old man climbing old mountains with my companion

I am a speck of dust walking up and down the bedrock remains

Worn down from great heights over hundreds of millions of years

Because everything is temporary.

I can count millions of minutes if not years in my life

Count tens of thousands of days

Measuring longevity, meaning nothing

Like waves speaking white noise upon the shore.

The measure of a person is not a number

Found on old gravestones listing exactly how many days, months and years

Eroded inscriptions one hundred years later blurred contours

Whispering to the wind soughing in the pines.

From the escarpment ridge looking out into the distance

The long view to the horizon presents a panorama larger than life

So beautiful to behold under a cloudless sky

So wonderful to partake.

Minnewaska Beacon Hill

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Wawayanda walk Fall equinox

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