WILD GOD

                         By division we speak, out of wonder.
                              – Wendell Berry (“To Gary Snyder”)

Alone and small within
the Sierra granite, day or night,
I ached for more

than horses and mules
to share the deep
disarming awe at each turn

of the trail, pure snowmelt
reflections of heaven
rippling beneath me,

the infinite blackness,
as I lay down to sleep,
perforated with galaxies

that surrounded me
like lantern light twinkling
off mica-flecked rock.

Perhaps it was that Sabbath
when greenheads rose from the cattails,
drops of water trailing their ascension

and my father’s long pause
to speak beyond religions
that drew me to the wild.