Blind Ambition

• July 19 2019

Mark with an X

a particular summit on the map.

Strap your pack at the trailhead

and go, crunching boot heels, climbing

into the horizon’s early glow.

Let’s not ask why you need to get there.

And, when you arrive, sweat-sopped, panting . . .

it’s only human to bask in the quaver

of blood-rush, muscle, bone.

Behold, if you can bear it,

far-off peaks and purple vistas

shimmering in the midday haze.

Clusters of X’s to mark on the map,

a lifetime of excursions, 

a galaxy of destinations.

Now, you make your way back down

same way you came,

no longer blinded with ambition,

and pause to apprehend

marvels you’d passed hurriedly, earlier.

An underground stream seeping through granite,

moist rock greening precarious gardens

of moss, thread-like runners and miniature fronds

clinging to decay . . . as the flow burbles

up from darkness, and sunlight sparks

ice blue tongues of flame. 

– From Earth-blood & Star-shine

Tags: Montana Poet Laureate