We stood on that high ground
Looking down at the inlet
Our eyes like eagles,
Dropping over the tops of fir and cedar
The moss-covered rock
Over the quiet water below
And out into the islands and the sea opening into the sunlight.
There was no horizon.
Our legs were warm from the climb
Our lungs still calling for air
Blood coursing through the limbs.
This small victory, this high moment.
We spoke of our lives in the purist terms
As if cleansed by the journey of all the dross,
About what we had made
And who we had loved
About our laughter and our tears
About our bodies alone and together
And what we had made
And I thought of my hands that morning
And of the small benediction I said
Before kneading the dough
The flour, water, salt and warmth
And the dough springing to life
By touch and prayer.
You pulled some of that bread
From your pack
And we tore chunks, and ate
We drank the water
Like a holy communion
On this perch of rock and earth
Two humans, standing on
the top of Mount Norman.