What I Could Make Out

What I Could Make OutKuwohi, Smoky Mountain National Park The last day of six weeks on the road. It had rained all night on the roof of the van, and when morning came, it was cold and grey and completely closed in with mist. Any reasonable person would have stayed in the sleeping bag. Instead, there was a hike to the top of Kuwohi, formerly Clingmans Dome, soaking wet and determined to make the most of what was left. The summit was solid cloud. This, a single line of

They just fit here perfectly

moving through the air in layers of amber and ash before the world fully commits to morning

The sun had just begun its descent behind the ridge and caught the face of this Colorado mountain in that particular late light that turns rock from grey to copper to something closer to fire

bright vigilance that was equal parts hunger and calculation

Just penguins

two calves tucked between the adults

The foal is pressed against its mother's flank

It had rained all night on the roof of the van

the space between them

It arrived here knowing exactly where it was going

asking nothing in return

and entirely unconcerned with the passage of time