We cling together while the earth shakes, trees topple, our hearts pound.
We’re unhurt, but forward path’s obliterated, return trail’s impassable, and we’ve no supplies.
Bushes rustle; a young backpacking couple emerge, sharing a canteen.
“Got any extra?” I ask.
The couple exchange glances. Guy shakes his head. “Shouldn’t be out here without water, grandpa,” then asks lady, “Where to now?” Continue reading Détente by Miko Johnston