Movement

Hiking at Glacier
Turning mountain trail corners blindly
Waiting for the bear
While banging my bell,

I came upon a slide

Of earth, rock, branches
And a puzzle of broken trees,
Splayed out in an eruptive flow
A scared swath down the mountain side
Opening a vein
And allowing a view
Of Lake McDonald far below
Looking like a puddle
Cupped in the mountain’s maw
A sapphire oval
With an island dotting the center
Sailing steamboat-like
On its never-ending journey north.

I stared and studied
Wondering and reconstructing
The moment and the movement.
Perhaps a burden of snow
Loosed a rock
Or time tumbled a spruce?
There was an instance
Of initiation
And wondering I wagered
That it all went
From the long pause of potential
To a wild explosion of kinetic.
And if I had been standing there…
Well I wouldn’t be standing here.

I could see the continuation
Of the trail to the opposite side.
And I puzzled again
For some uncertain time of
Venturing across
Stepping into the precarious
And perhaps being swept up
Into this mystery.

I wondered if there were skeletons

Entombed below
And if mine would ever be found
Marked only by detritus
On its downward journey.

Would my path forward
Be a solid safe concretion,

Or one loosely laid out before me?

Such  fates are  likely known only to

Mountain gods.