Encountering William Stafford
Along an Alpine Trail

by Tracy Mitchell

Where sky still holds the blue
of big history, where hushed Vivaldi
drifts in from the stars.

A seep spring
feeds a nine-inch waterfall:

a bubbling gurgle, nourishes
the best moss on the mountain.

He appears calm and radiant
among alpine conifers.

Shoulder to shoulder, like brothers
we look at silent stones
along the streambed twisting
tumbling away.
His voice–“I will listen to what you say.”


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