Thousands of miles away an African American president inaugurates his second term. Across the country we remember a slain civil rights leader who fractured the back of American racism. Here in this old growth forest capped by low gray clouds, carpeted by still skiable snow, I carry Dr. Kings’ remembered words down the trail.
He had a dream that became ours 50 years ago. A dream still unfulfilled except for moments when we forget our prejudices in a wash of communal love that fades into self interest at crisis end.
“Will we ever reach Dr. King’s mountain top Aki?” The little dog looks up from a wolf’s recent tracks. giving me the puzzled look I deserve.