climbing august heat
fourteen hundred feet and forty years
in one sweat soaked hour
past the bones of winter streams
the skeleton of naked rocks
a pelvic bowl of sand below
the ribs of vanished waterfalls
along a path that was a road
but now eroded, a dusty track.
the monkey flowers browned,
the spring trumpet blossoms
that we plucked and sucked a drop,
a hint of nectar from are gone.
the bunch grass greens at seeps
with a spill of horsetail ferns,
the ones that crept across the earth
before anything with legs.
the faintest trickle of water tickles
whispering a dark streak
across the rocky cheek:
summer tears.
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