Handies Peak
When the whole mountain
lies under your feet,
put there with leg muscle
and deep breathing,
you begin to see
what the mountain sees—
distances expanding
through the polished air,
the steep falling away
from this high reach
of rock and talus with its scabs
of orange and gray-green lichen,
the trickles of sky water from snowfields
and, far down, the brief summer flourish
of alpine meadows, and farther yet
and wide away rolling on and on
the velvet blanket of the forest
to a narrow yellow band of lowland
curving at the horizon.
Like a cone of seeds,
under one of those numberless trees
lies your bundle of daily cares,
whereabouts unknown.
You see daylight and drifting cloud shadows
play across the undulant land
like a blessing
for the largeness of life
and a tap on the shoulder
for the shortness of days.
