our faces shine like moses’ and we meet God in the call of the eagle wild in the straggle of pine and spruce and the step of foot breaking frozen path

“remember to look up” he would tell me, my husband back home to his wife who watches her shoes, so i whisper it into the winter and it nods and


see the chalet roofs carved steep like rocky ledge
the body print in white where mother in law laid down and made an angel rise for the beauty of the morning

see the sun in chorus of shining yellows

i stand and breathe the holy that is God around us and we enter his tabernacle,
babies in tow,
and all of creation claps–

an applause that echoes long after we’ve disappeared in car and tire–

an applause that keeps us rising, keeps us climbing,

keeps us heaven

in the valley of house and life beyond

(so grateful to be home in husband’s embrace but carrying close the mountain muse… i would live there if i could, in the carve of the white and grey, but to know they are there, is sometimes enough, and knowing you are there, readers, always enough–thank you)