You can spot the better hikers by

the lightness of their steps, and how

their packs

seem much too small. They’ve learned

they shouldn’t try

to carry their whole lives upon their backs.

Inside their tidy rectangles they keep

the minimum they need to make their homes.

They eat two protein bars and fall asleep,

snug inside their instant nylon domes.

Though I go hiking several times a year,

I always carry much more than I need:

outside, my pack is hung with cooking gear,

inside, the books I probably won’t read;

and when I raise my tent, unwelcome guests

crowd a cluttered mind that never rests.