Afternoon in the Smokies

The forest awaits

Your steps, sure-footed

On stones as you cross

The stream roofed

with moss.

Then a sudden stopping

In this rain for day’s

Welcome burst on

Your upturned face.

Hear water’s plop and patter

On leaf and fern

Amidst whispers of mist

And moon as memories

Start to shimmer

And shout,

They’re strung like flags,

Bound in fog

Along an elusive

Mountain top.