merge
I arrive
after rare May snow
sun gone
behind the west range

in the white last light
of Mt. Shasta
the dream dreamed
before the journey
finds me

the mountain stands
in a moving gauze of mist

   I move into the dream
     
air of cloud surrounds
smell of pines
and damp earth

great peak above me
I bow to the earth
   life
      spirit
head to holy ground

   I move into the dream
   I move into the mountain

gravel in my palms
wet knees
five times I bow

time moves into time
place into place
my breath into breath

   I move into the dream
   I move into the mountain
   I move into the Movement


© June 1998 Leslye Layne Russell

This poem was published in the
August 1998 issue of One Dog Press.


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