I’ll summarize 11,000 feet
(and more than that, above the ocean’s line),
by stating that the air is clean and sweet,
the water clear, the wildflowers fine,
the granite lichen-spotted, washed and sure,
the clouds developing each afternoon,
the solitude relaxing and secure,
the light at midnight flattened by the moon.

As if the hand of God were made of stone,
this cup is cradle to the lucent air.
The basin incubates my view. I learned
this week to wander on the planet’s bone,
to wash my senses and neglect my hair,
to comprehend how highness can be earned.