You Might Ask Why I Stay On Mt Cardigan,
What It Is I See From Its Height.
In The First Morning Light
Fog Blankets The Valleys
Lines Of Ridges Rise From Cottony Seas –
Island Chains Past Which Some Magellan
May Ghost Toward His Philippines.
Just As The Sun Rises,
Such A Surprising Red Ball,
My Son Laughs And Reaches
And Frozen In The Photo There He Stands,
A Burning Bauble In His Hands.
We’d Lain Sheltered By The Cairn,
In A Hollow, Sandy And Slight,
Our Sleeping Bags Stretched Side By Side,
Only Our Eyes Exposed To The Breeze.
We’d Called Out In Delight
As The Perseids Cut Across The Night,
So Sudden And So Bright.
And Before, In The Evening,
We’d Rested On The Rim Rocks
Having Snacked On Mountain Blueberries
Like The Bear And The Fox
Who’d’ve Been There If Not For Us.
We’d Watched The Sun’s Demise
Extinguished In The Distant Haze
Beyond Vermont To The West.
In Memory, The Night Reversed,
Sunset Trailing Sunrise.
As We Hurried Down The Trail,
Hungry For Some Breakfast
His Young Legs Carried Him Fast,
I Might As Well’ve Been Born A Snail.
Soon It Was Just His Knapsack
Glimpsed Then Lost Through The Trees.
This Time Was Likely The Last
I’d Find Him Waiting At The Car,
Napping Or Devouring Some Snack.
I Knew Right Then I’d Been Happy
And That The Moment Was Past.
So Now We Sit In The Bar,
Some Football Game On The Screens.
On Your Cell You Say,
‘Yeah Yeah, He’s Doing Great,
He Likes School,
He’s Got A Girlfriend Even.’
Me, I Stay On Mt Cardigan,
Seeing The Whole Milky Way
Arch Over My Head,
Knowing That In The End,
There’s Nothing To Be Done
For That Windblown Magellan