Reading our fortune in the patterns of frost
How swirling the sky. How tumbling the stars
frozen in time, in place, angling towards
some soft landing, clear and bright.
Sure the mountains are jagged and tall, tipping
towards the sun. Sure the pines are lonely, perched
there, edging towards abandon. A moment
of sunlight and it’s as if they never existed at all.
But we know. We’ve seen the stars fall.
We’ve been to the mountaintop.
We’ve stood at the edge, gave in
to abandon. And we’d do it
again. And we do it
Editor’s Note: The imagery in this poem demands that the reader feel what is seen, because it is both important and human to give in to the bit of vertigo that some beauty demands.