Homage to the Tetons
The Pine
A snap of a twig,
needles break beneath
Soft carpet sewn
carefully
Life’s seeds sown
sparingly
Yet these short
stubby pines drop veritable cornucopias
Only defrocked
through spark throwing fire
And resisting
corruption to form the next city of spires
The Tributary
The dribbling
dripping stream bubbles and boils through broken cauldrons
Liquid snow
flowing amidst the gentle newborn flowers
The mountain face
melts in the way of this race
Rushing and
crushing the rocks in the path
Brace yourself
now, before you step in this bath
The Wind
The wind is the
bard of the bare hard stone
Whipping and
stripping the barren tundra’s life
It sings a solemn
mass in its long-storied bones,
And moans of the
past, of internal strife
Watch your hat as
you go, know well that it might
Blow slow down the
mount, and count well with the rest
At the crest of
its power in the cold clear night
Emptiness
withholding, its withering welcome blest
