February 2016
Robert Walton
dragonlemontree@sbcglobal.net
dragonlemontree@sbcglobal.net
I taught at San Lorenzo Middle School in King City, California for thirty-six years before retiring in June of 2006. Phyllis, my wife of 42 years, and I still reside in King City. I am a life-long rock-climber and mountaineer. I've made numerous ascents in the Sierra Nevada and Yosemite, though my home crags are in Pinnacles National Monument. Many of my climbing stories have been published over the years. One, Three's a Crowd, was produced as a radio play and broadcast on KUSF in 2006 and later made it onto PBS. Please visit my website at: http://chaosgatebook.wordpress.com/
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Author’s Note: While awaiting my son's arrival in Tuolumne Meadows last July, I got in a serendipitous climb with Denise Park, a former English student of mine. She was passing through on her way to SF and had the morning free. Her parents are good friends and I’ve known her since she was a toddler. I took her on some early climbs, but she's way better than I am now. We went up South Crack on Stately Pleasure Dome, an old favorite. High on the climb, we shared a belay stance with other climbers. Denise raised their eyebrows when she called: "Mr. Walton, does it go left here?" Classroom formality is rare six hundred feet off the ground.
When I write a climbing poem, I often have specific moments in mind. Sentinel’s Shadow’s images spring from beauteous passages on Pleasure Dome granite.
When I write a climbing poem, I often have specific moments in mind. Sentinel’s Shadow’s images spring from beauteous passages on Pleasure Dome granite.
Sentinel’s Shadow
I’m alone again
In a granite crystal
Moment,
A fractured edge
Of time.
The rope pulls gently
Like a lover,
Distant,
Close,
Distant,
Full of sensual promise,
A breast’s lovely curve
Of slack
Behind me.
Spider-balanced
Above shadow,
I caress crystals
Stars will soon touch.
The summit is near,
But
I’m alone again
Above an abyss.
Following
Another's footprints up
Steep snow —
Through shifting diamonds
Of morning light,
As wind feathers
Chill my face —
Left
Above an ice crust,
Right
Below the crevasse,
I cede decisions
To an unknown mind
And know it —
Until up a gleaming cirque
Untrodden snow
Beckons.
Downward Bound
Like friends parting
Before uncertain journeys,
Clouds clasp hands
Across an autumn moon.
The lake below muses,
On snow’s return,
Its black waters
Deep as space.
What game do we play
With mute mountains,
With moonlit clouds,
With puckish stars?
I check my anchor,
Clip to the rope,
And step into
Night’s granite belly.
Rockfall, Palisades
Hit hard —
Pain’s black flower
Blooms deep inside.
Why
Have you hit me
So?
I came only to speak softly,
To touch you
As winds touch you.
Mountain,
Darker than the last of all nights
Your heart is,
Mountain.
Climbers' Light
Honey-mustard alpen-glow
Just lapped up
By a wolf of evening shadow
Hurries our steps
Down from summits too long savored —
But while stars open
Above wastes of stone
The highest snowfield
Burns white
As Owens Valley sands at noon.
Our path shines clear
In Climbers' Light.
Sentinel’s Shadow
I’m alone again
In a granite crystal
Moment,
A fractured edge
Of time.
The rope pulls gently
Like a lover,
Distant,
Close,
Distant,
Full of sensual promise,
A breast’s lovely curve
Of slack
Behind me.
Spider-balanced
Above shadow,
I caress crystals
Stars will soon touch.
The summit is near,
But
I’m alone again
Above an abyss.
Following
Another's footprints up
Steep snow —
Through shifting diamonds
Of morning light,
As wind feathers
Chill my face —
Left
Above an ice crust,
Right
Below the crevasse,
I cede decisions
To an unknown mind
And know it —
Until up a gleaming cirque
Untrodden snow
Beckons.
Downward Bound
Like friends parting
Before uncertain journeys,
Clouds clasp hands
Across an autumn moon.
The lake below muses,
On snow’s return,
Its black waters
Deep as space.
What game do we play
With mute mountains,
With moonlit clouds,
With puckish stars?
I check my anchor,
Clip to the rope,
And step into
Night’s granite belly.
Rockfall, Palisades
Hit hard —
Pain’s black flower
Blooms deep inside.
Why
Have you hit me
So?
I came only to speak softly,
To touch you
As winds touch you.
Mountain,
Darker than the last of all nights
Your heart is,
Mountain.
Climbers' Light
Honey-mustard alpen-glow
Just lapped up
By a wolf of evening shadow
Hurries our steps
Down from summits too long savored —
But while stars open
Above wastes of stone
The highest snowfield
Burns white
As Owens Valley sands at noon.
Our path shines clear
In Climbers' Light.
©2016 Robert Walton