After four days in the mountains
we have lived most of the world's
history-it's passionate storms,
its silences of fog, the exuberant valleys
and ruinous cliffs, and above
the timberline its tundra of small,
pink flowers shivering on short wires,
that remind me of me, quivering
in the kiss of your breath.
Our uncertainty reveals itself
the way a mountain campanula
half-opens its purple mouth-waxy,
mysterious, tracked by a black thread
of ants. If I could be as sure about us
as the politicians seem to be about campaign
promises...The truth is, the future lies
in ambush; more waits to happen
like the surprise thunder
when Glacier Lake, blue as a peacock
feather, carrying God's gold solar eye,
turns black with wind.
-Luci Shaw
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1 comment:
does this mean you're moving to Colorado? yes please.
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