When you notice the sun
climb the granite wall
covering each day-warmed crevice
with dusk’s purple robe,
stop and watch,
so you don’t miss the goodnight kiss,
when each gnarled twist of Juniper root
clung to the ridgeline’s stone, is revealed.
When you wake
cocooned in your sleeping bag,
only your eyes daring exposure,
go out into the promise of return.
Bundled by still warm dreams,
gaze upon the ridgeline where the juniper’s sleep.
Watch as they stir, glided by dawn’s lips.
The rim on fire. Until the spill,
light pours honey-slow down cold stone.
Night blooms on the other side of the world.
Stay where you are, warmth will soon cover you.