Beginning

Ninety strangers step slowly,

Single file, through a Rocky

Mountain meadow. It’s six

On a summer morning, sun

Not yet up over the aspens.

Like one body they heed the signal

And stand still for minutes,

Breathing it all in as moon-glow

Soaks and blesses Red Feather Peak.

After a deep marinade

In the moment’s quiet

They turn back

On this narrow path

Looping past each other

With echoes of sweet

Recognition, open

Eyes receive the welcome

Of friends and dawn’s

Unending bloom.