So the rains rearranged the land
Caved the gravelly mountains into givers.

The cold spirit receded
As summer emerged from its den,

Widow’s peak glacier
Piercing the distant views.

I spied the shy, mature hide of Death
My mother driving wildly around the rocky curvature

Angry at the world winding its path before her
Even as the river promises

To continue around the bend,
And presence deepens my dependence

On natural forces.
People think I’m irrational

Letting some cosmic conductor decide,
But what a sensation

Leaping from the cliffside into the turquoise pool,
Hiking through crisped aspen, directionless white ash

Passing me on the trail, a veil of smoke cloaking beargrass
As a black nose pokes out.

A hole blasted through the mountains,
What a mad way to pursue the sun!

Bighorn sheep leaping rock to rock, knocking horns,
fur half torn from thorns rubbing their bellies.

I summoned the summit’s courage,
Thought the glacial drifts would sift emotion,

But even at the edge with only a rope to hang onto the sloping trail
I’m not afraid of falling but failing everyone else

The waterfall caterwauls reasonably,
All things considered.

My mother asks, “What does it have to go on about?”
Now jubilant, having undoubtably forgotten her own turbulence.

Sun turns to the low clouds proud to be acknowledged
And colors them in curiosity,

While I peer up the grand road to tomorrow, still so much to go
The Great Star far ahead

Past meadows and domes, past mountain goats and elk,
Past the milky white glaciers retreating under her greatness,

And my mother burns existence beside me,
So I turn and accept stars nearby,

The road to the sun going on and on toward the sky.
One day, I will reach her.

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