Summit fever in July’s heatwave
cross Elk River on the fallen cedar
climb over balsam blowdown
to gain the ridge
and when the forest becomes sparse
the giants appear
sharp pinnacle sits
and strategically spits rocks
down at the flat land
eyes widen
follow their tumble
and listen for the crash far below
a primal fright prickles up my bones
no fall zone
the sun burns fierce at the summit
we are quick to fly
descend west gully’s chimney
damp and cold
four rappels until darkness falls
coos out the moon
she’s cool light on sunburnt ridges
snowfield on Mt. Colonel Foster.
