By: Darrelyn L. Tutt

Hiking conditions are ideal and I'm "Black Elk" ready.
The skies are blue and the temperature is an accommodating 74°.
Gear garb is climb stretchable, breathable, and colorful; boots are sturdy and grippable. A lightweight backpack carrying nuts, hard-boiled eggs, water, and Advil rides piggyback; an outside netted pocket holds a retrievable water, notebook, and cell phone (minus cell service) but effective for photos.
A bright red cord is snug to my wrist with a whistle, knife, and pepper spray at the ready. A hip holster houses a high-powered pistol and I'm feeling extra powerful ... and whether I'm teasing or not In the last statement is for the reader to decide.
I'm given a lover's kiss, a swat on the backside, and wished an early "Happy Birthday."
Scot will be somewhere behind on the trail ...
an extra measure of peace.
The day is beautiful.
A familiar scene of towering tree and shade of green encompasses me;
and a sense of "internal autism" fades away.
I feel connected ...
Nature casts an instant spell and the "God-Father" feels so present.
Words breathe and expand like the wide open skies above.
Words that I've never seen or heard make an entrance ... but I know inside my spirit the words exist.
Later on I'll look them up and locate them in a dictionary and earn a new word vocabulary.
This strange and beautiful "irregularity" is a special gift.
Word threading to word,
 threading to word ...
In an invisible web.
A sacred language unfolding.
The whole while I'm hiking, words are whispering, and the trail keeps winding.
Further and further into the deep ...
I tread.
When Black Elk Peak and my feet finally meet, I'm inspired to silence.
My eyes survey and scan the endless terrain of land stretched out before.
A slab of stone, I drift off alone, and create a boundary;
I wish to be left alone ... with no man near.
 The heights afford such beauty:
Perspective is provided.
Permission is given.
Vision is gained.
I'm filled.
The trek down Black Elk boasts a "Dream stream" about half-way down.
Hiking boots come off and pink nailed toes are exposed.
I plant my feet in the frigid waters and feel the currents.
I stay awhile.
I'm in no hurry.
I leave refreshed.
The trail is picked-up again with new words accompanying and a surge of new energy.
 Nature has spoken her native tongue;
replenished and refreshed me.
A journey of words in a forest of trees ...
A place of discovery.
Word Forestry.