Thinking Like A Mountain

I stood in a field of caribou though they did not see me, but
saw only themselves.

I lingered at the bank of the river, knowing springs ice

was but a jam just around the bend.

I looked down upon a village from a mountain, but

saw none of the pain.

I saw a fires orphans drift skyward, sailing towards

their relatives waiting distantly above.

I followed the caribou tracks, but they only

lead me back to where I began.