Common Time

Under the thin air of dynamic skies,
Near the soft tundra grass,
At the edge of a sheer drop,
A piano stands near the moss laid stones,
The depression between its ivory keys,
Swell the notes of chants and sympathy,
The shivering melody fading as vapor,
The dark varnish cracking in webs of mistakes,
And baking in the noble sun of burdens,
A force playing the greats in E-minor,
As the mountains cry into the valleys,
And the alpine clovers reach for the fire weeds,
Within the barren timberline of complete solitude,
So near the consoling light of Orion’s Sword,
Striking into a mixture of loathing and oaths,
Serenading into nocturnes of inevitability.
I tremble with the thought of failure.

Mt Evans summit, Colorado. Photo Credit: Colleen R. (me)

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