Here's a poem from the last hike, which I've written about below. I think I am ready to leave it up now. It's a sonnet, and I find this rhyme scheme more challenging than most.
In a dusty canyon with no name
waves wild grasses' green-gold tide
where daylight shadow shrinks and hides
and every rock proclaims "I am."
Here, where lightning burned an oak to ash
the trapdoor spider lurks, and we six,
promised something special, fix
our eyes on that far point beyond the wash.
Just read the rocks: an ancient river ran here,
sign that soon the old trail takes a turn"
the sound of water and a wall of ferns--
despite our fears, unexpected orchids do appear.