I arrive after rare May snow sun gone behind the west range in the white last light of Mt. Shasta the dream dreamed before the journey finds me the mountain stands in a moving gauze of mist I move into the dream air of cloud surrounds smell of pines and damp earth great peak above me I bow to the earth life spirit head to holy ground I move into the dream I move into the mountain gravel in my palms wet knees five times I bow time moves into time place into place my breath into breath I move into the dream I move into the mountain I move into the Movement
© June 1998 Leslye Layne Russell
This poem was published in the
August 1998 issue of One Dog Press.