IN THE HIGH COUNTRY

Some days I am happy to be no one

The shifting grasses

In the May winds are miraculous enough

As they ripple through the meadow of lupine

The field as iridescent as a Renaissance heaven

& do you see that boy with his arms raised

Like one of Raphael’s angels held within

This hush & this pause & the sky’s lapis expanse?

That boy is my son & I am his only father

Even when I am no one