Beer Poet(ry)

Here's a poem written by a long-distance hiker, Beer Poet, who is now hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. (He's also famous for his poem, "The Rainy Day (AT Poem)"

My Compass (8/13)

15 miles from Oregon
I realized
that I had lost a close friend. . .

(my compass)

This is a horribly tragic moment.
That compass had become my mirror,
my reflection of the real world. . .

When it looked back at me
I found movement and direction.

"Oh what grief!"

If only it could talk. . .
It would yell out,
“Help! . . .
Take me to my friend!”
and it would tell grandiose stories of adventure
and madness.

(It could tell one hell of a tale.)

but it lies quiet somewhere . . .

(without me)

Sadly sleeping,
without the movement . . .
without serving me well.

And the hush of the wind
sings a lulling sad lament
as the morning begins
the stars fade, and the sky turns
from black to early grey. . .
and I sip on a cup of tea
(Earl Grey)
with a distant bugle playing taps in my head

. . . and I miss my compass.

The Beer Poet