However our shadows.
However, mountains spit out
scaffolds of an abandoned mine still rich with silver
near the ruined city. Its saloons graced by oil paintings
of corpulent nudes denote a slow decay. Here minerals
shift in the mountain’s interior and slender rivers
glide through sleeves of granite. We look at each other
as if it were the first time unveiling
ourselves in this ancient stand of aspens
gleaming gold in the late intaglio of the afternoon sun,
newlyweds despite the decades, and
breathe beautifully into each other’s ears.
Some say mountains brim with lost treasure and
dim with a poor man’s dissipated dreams. A horse
whinnies somewhere in the valley. Somewhere granite
outcroppings beg for the first spit of snow.
~ Kathleen Willard
Kathleen Willard is a Colorado poet whose collection Cirque & Sky won the Fledge Chapbook Poetry prize for 2015. Cirque & Sky uses the pastoral tradition to document the beauty of the Colorado landscape, and anti-pastorals to document fracking, superfund sites, benzene spills in the Platte River, and other environmental incursions.