Weverton Cliffs,
1 am,
tents up; rain tarp;
no time for bear bag;
sleep with pack;
pillow;
morning coming on,
train sounds in
the night;
Gabow snores;
a metallic snapping sound
four times each closer;
creeping fire,
out tent flaps
I expect any moment,
bear snout, bigfoot;
and phantom thing
of paranoia,
until adrenaline
from hike wearing,
I sleep.
AT Poems II
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