Poncho

I am 28 hiking
In the wilderness
Along the Gila River
Far too foolishly alone
In western New Mexico,
A light drizzle is falling so
I have fashioned a poncho
From a garbage bag which
Is simple but not a real poncho
Since my arms poke through each
Side to keep dry and warm at nine
Thousand feet up and as I walk
Along observing the flora and
Avoiding the more excitable
Fauna I muse on how very
Utilitarian my garbage
Bag poncho is when
I meet two hikers
In expensive
Rainproof
Serapes
Who
Stare
At me in
Trepidation
As I look like
A bum but I say
Hello smiling and
They respond so we
Trade info on the trails.
The rain drips off my old
Gray felt hat but keeps the
Blue bandana around my neck
Dry making me loquacious as we
Share a bit of camaraderie of
Being hikers far from any
Roads alone in the dark
Green pines all looking
For fresh prints or any
Other calling cards
Of cougars bears
Elk or smaller
Critters all
Aware of
Our isolation
From any help
Beyond the kindness
Of strangers on the trail.
We all exchange some salted
Nuts for chocolate each delighted
At our chance meeting in the
Wilderness each glad we
Have risked our lives
To stand in the rain
Chatting as all
Around us the
Creatures of
The wild
Wait
For us
To move
On so they
Can get back
To tooth and claw
As nature intended
Sans ponchos or serapes.