Glacier mountain

I arrive in the midst of mountains
on a rain-shrouded afternoon
the Alpine lake engulfs my vision

its surface graced by curving ripples
greets me in silence
makes my welcome complete.

The station in Schwyz is empty,
a fact I notice instantly
as I alight from the train.

What beauty thrives in desolate places,
I whisper to myself, and immediately
a measure of comfort is achieved.

I choose a path through the meadows,
or rather, it chooses me
as I set out hoping

to arrive at a village
behind a hill somewhere
but for nearly an hour

there is only the rain
and the heart-stopping calm
of this landscape as my friend.

Sheets of wild grass roll upward
to the snow-capped peaks
the immaculate green interrupted

by calligraphies of pine forests
a few cows and a scatter of houses
that punctuate the view.

In the distance high up
through curtain of fine rain
from out of the mist a glacier mountain

steps forth. And as I gaze
at its haunting beauty
it fills me with pain

I shall never be so close to the sky
not even at the end of my life
never to glimpse a shadow of heaven’s face

whereas this mountain leans
for all time against
the cheek of heaven itself.

Then the clouds descend
to claim the glacier from me
extinguishing my delight.

They say this land is blessed
with unmatched natural beauty
They say a song bursts forth

with every sigh of the wind
but in all this time when I have sought
to blend into its music

my soul still sings without melody.

The clouds descend and I submit

Completely.