When the snows of January come I am reminded of another January not that long ago when we heard that our nephew Matt Johnson was missing in Japan. Matt was there on business but no one knew what other plans he had.
His snow covered rental car was found in a parking lot not far from a building that serviced visitors who wanted to view or even climb Mt. Fuji. There are marked trails that lead to the summit.
We found out a week or two later that Matt had stopped there on the morning of his solo climb to purchase two post cards. He wrote that the weather was cold but the air was clear and it was a great day for a climb.
Matt did make it to the summit, the starting point for this poem.
One January
Sacred ground, lofty, rocky
and upon it he placed his Nikon,
facing East behind the setting sun,
and there he stood, arms resting
on hips, against the wide, wide
early evening deep blue sky
that said - forever
She dreamed that two angels
lifted him off a boulder and placed
him just so, then carried him away
Snows melted, Spring came,
men who are charged to do these
types of things followed the valleys
and found the frame that climbed
on high, and rode so long
and danced to it's own tune
But him they did not find
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