Words for Wednesday: Hurricane Ridge

nature poetry
Hurricane Ridge - Olympic National Park, WA

I dropped my pack by the small stone wall that hemmed the visitor's center, ostensibly designed to demarcate civilization vs the wilderness. The strange, bellowing calls of male grouse echoed out over the landscape. As daylight faltered, the wild crept in, reclaiming more of the land as its own. Chill air returned to the mountains, and as my fingers went numb with the cold, I pulled my down vest out. Fumbling, I did up the zipper in the sunset. The pink light blessed the tips of the mountain peaks just before the valley fell into darkness.


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