Mt. Tallac
brown and bare-legged,
up the trail,
silver gravel crunches
beneath our white shoes;
Sierra sun slides
down our backs.
Floating Island Lake
to the left,
green and granite,
gold light breaks
and bounces
into my eyes.
narrow knife ridge
leads us high,
fewer pines, more rock.
Cathedral Lake glistens
over the edge, down,
down.
step breath step breath,
higher higher,
Fallen Leaf Lake, Tahoe,
home of the Washoe—
lakes beyond lakes,
land beyond land.
glacier smooth boulders,
now no trail,
just go for it.
snow hangs on,
snow melts off,
we climb on all fours.
pink flowers burst;
their fire fills the cracks.
hands hold,
legs spring,
and we're up on the last ridge
below the summit.
Tallac great Tallac,
sharp peak shining
near ten thousand feet
into deep July blue,
we stand in wild wind
on its shoulders.
out to the farthest highest
ridge point,
gray rounded boulder
beneath my tiny white shoes,
south and east and west
roll out below.
Tallac behind,
Tahoe and the sisters beneath,
my arms reach up
breathing earth and sky.
my cry goes out
hay-ah-hay-ah-ho-o-o-o
hear it float in silver air,
fall through pines
and light on lakes till
the peak's silent shadow pushes
the last splash of sun
over the edge.
as Tallac still lit,
watches,
we breathe the tip of time.
