i stand atop the mountain

i stand atop the mountain

the steady rush of westward wind

in my face as i steady my legs

and look off toward

the narrow slit of yellow light

beneath the grey of cloud

rumbling over the sky

i can see the pristine and

i hear the roar of distant water

reduced to a whisper in

my ear as i turn my head

and strain my senses to

catch a glimpse of sound

below in the world

the echo of laughter

and of passion murmurs

up the slope to me

i see the teeming life

in unscripted passages

it is cold on the mountain

the hard granite beneath

my stone sore feet

is steep and barren

and the chill of the wind

rustles through to my skin

i weigh the costs of the climb

and the trial of a decent

i measure the distance

and gauge the time of day

and sit on the summit

and await the setting sun

boise 0ct 2003

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