Alpine Heliport

12 hours of staking claims
in gnarled green wool
deep enough to hide a man
or a grizzly
anywhere

and now we huddle at 7000 feet
on the edge of this turquoise tarn
stinging chapped lips
with California oranges

the lake is an oiled slab of gemstone
where quartz clouds slide
like piebald ballet dancers
on silent skates

but these mountains are livid with flies
right to the Yukon horizon
where they fold into grey
convolutions of a brain

and each man searches deliberately
for a dragonfly
on the gathering sunset



-Al Smith