CHIMNEY ROCK (November 2, 2013)

An afghan of leaves over the mountain path

And unsculpted rocks with bronze-rust mold

Green,

Like Lady Liberty’s huddled masses–

Living monuments

The sun waits for its moment and pours its gold

Down through the orange-zest leaves on the trees

Rain sprinkles on our foreheads

And at the apex I jump across a formation

Like stone tablets cast down from the clouds

Monumental.

For all the deep crevices

Making no effort to hide the banality of peril,

And a greater mountain hovering in the distance,

It feels the top of the world

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