Thanatopsis in The Pinnacles

On the way up I pass a group of women who think every bird they see is a condor.

Lizards slither out of the brush.

At a certain point I want to turn back, but the ascent beckons like it is holding some reward.

Oak trees grow out of solid rock.

Hawks and turkey vultures watch from above.

The path is made of places I've never been before. There's nothing to hold on to other than the sky.