“Over the place where Long’s Peak and its slightly less imposing companions stand in lofty isolation and invite the summer tourist to their cool retreats, the waves of an open sea once rolled and its tide as ebbed and flowed, unhindered by rock or shoal.” (NPS.gov)
Meadows swim: yellow, periwinkle, and green
framing curlicues of snaking streams
washed down from the mineraled mountain
I touch an icy, bubbling flow and salts eroded from ancient glacial slabs
coat my finger connecting me to those upswept ocean floors
The sea is now the sky, tides of air directing the clouds like swells
reflections wafting through the horseshoe streams
bringing clouds back to earth
Mirrors interrupted rhythmically by waving grasses until
it all feels
like an ancient weaving
like time turned over
like I have always walked here