my mountain runs over your hill
erupting our double-edge sword
into a tomb of disintegrating snow
you’re my hero even if you don’t
think so, or how with bits of fog
particulating into ash, a green tree
trunk emerges with a rolling thunder
my role in thunder is to act as rain
cloud I’m falling a bit too hard
though like geodes coming
down from the sky
inside also crystal suicide
your hill pushes through with an
errant theater, a bobcat straddles
a hyperbolic rock on the edge
of the bluff, layers beneath
are little histories made into one
big natural applause


Paige Taggart is a poet and jewelry-maker. To learn more, visit her website mactaggart jewelry.