Moonsong
We were where all could go but few bother;
High on a mountain's shoulder,
On a cold spring night.
In a blackness no city would tolerate, we stood.
Looming behind us was the mountain's ridge.
Darker by a shade than the sky.
We were together, but on a mountain at night
Each is alone, either one with nature, or
Terrified at the immensity.
The moon rose displaying a boiling mass of cloud
Streaming over the ridge and descending the valley
Spreading before us.
Outlanders do not come here at night, twice; they
Like pretty vistas, not power; they do not like to see
Civilization's outpost far below on a wild night.
The daughter, aged ten, watched her first mountain
Moonrise on high mountain wind. Her mother's blood
Runs in her veins; she stood firm.
Not a retreating step from the edge, not a clinging hand,
Only the mountaineer's silence before an awesome display.
No outlander, this child, raised in lowlands .
I watched her hear the moonsong, and felt her turn it to
Private purpose. Reluctant to leave, she will one day call
Mountains home.