Why am I not included here? The cirque
walls tower above me, crenellations and spires
losing themselves in white avalanches.
My gut plummets with each plume of snow.
Lake Katherine’s emerald eye opens and includes
whatever it sees. Perhaps my ledge is
too far off, imperceptible
in her reflections, though the scree is,
and the tor, and a few cairns along an ambiguous
trail. All of it appears from here, from where
I am, nowhere to be seen. So much so
a rare silver-gold coyote basks nearby,
takes no notice. At last, a marmot startles it.
Nearly invisible, I can see my small confusions –
how the human form seeks nothing
but its own defining –
and go on asking for little, for less.
I can sit on a granite ledge, warmed by
a momentary sun, and wait for wilderness
to rise up and include me. To see myself
as seen in Katherine’s eye.