up the mountain

up here the sky is black and we see stars. 
the seasons change before the weather systems 
and a sunset of copper leaves like vibrant rust 
move before manhattan. there is fresh
space to swallow when the nurse took the needle.
now vulnerable, we are not diagnosed unless we ask.

a lake does not save lives unless we let it.
in sickness and in health, in trails running through rivers
this is peace: the tree line, the blue line of beyond.
filling each day with a sun’s bright spark,
if we carried our light inside wherever we danced
what would change?

count my bearings; find my blessings
the leaves do no dictate but camouflage
as we climb up the mountain coming down 
slowly, I realize more than I can hold.