A Mountain Prayer
I kneel so that I may remember this
without words, this mountain without
a wasted breath speaks and I want to
remember the way I felt listened to.
So I close my eyes and breathe in the aroma
I smell peeled apple and peppermint, moss
and dried roses, orange blossom water in my throat
and I taste the words of the mountain, a few drops
that make me swirl in wild silence
the mountain is calm, always
in the way it notices the offerings of mortals
it stands untouched, in my arms
as a hay field holds the Sun’s amber light.