Above the Treeline
Joan Colby
This is the distance of peril. The lost cause
Of hidden canyons where rivers jitterbug
Over the stones. Cohabit
With coyotes or pronghorns.
Hike the merciless trail
Where the blind mules tread
Surefooted as monks circling
A prayer wheel. Hide out
With the outlaws of love. You must
Climb these slopes above the treeline
Where the little yellow flowers explode,
Where the snow pockets unfold in glitter
And the bottomless lakes are cold.
