in the darkness, i squint without my glasses to see the contours of the
snow-covered mountains, still, glacial, faintly respiring,
the glow of your iPhone casting northern lights on the still-unpainted wall.
in the unflinching range, it is:
buried and left.
i understand now this is a sight to be admired from afar,
like a forest of saguaros. the cactus only wanted to be held.
i think: spend less time with the microscope.
i think: spend more time with the telescope.
lakes of warm water sigh below but offer no reflections of
the vast range,
constrained by a queen.