Morning Mountain Moon

(from the moon series)

Almost at tree line bells of cows
and mountain goats clop
from rock to rock. The wind

comes like a car from the southeast.
Wraps itself around our fingers.

Our hands find each other. We take
out the cards and miss fire. We eat
cold tortilla and onion. We listen
for animals coming for us in the night.

The rain starts. Our legs ache. The rain stops.

We sleep in shifts. But this is not war.
This is Sierra Nevada and we're afraid
of the unknown. It is big and round
and somewhere out of sight

under the clouds or under the Earth
and we cannot know. But it is okay,

for the absence of loneliness insulates
the Granada mountains well.