(August 28, 2007)

On the flanks of Mount Washburn,
high above most of Yellowstone,
we watch an eclipse of the moon
as it slowly darkens to brown
except for one glaring rim
in the chilly air of five a.m.
The mountain slowly lightens
in pre-dawn under a Milky Way
revealing our pine-draped trail
and ghostly fire-burnt trees,
their naked trunks shining in
stronger lunar light, and
in a meadow far below
two coyotes howl as the old
moon returns to full bloom.
We push on, through the sage-Brush,
to the full-mooned summit
and the rising of the sun where
we give thanks to our lucky stars.