Aspen Song

By Robert Morgan

The sound of water in the air
cools even summer sunlight,
as though the upland pasture
remembers oceans at this height
when even dirt and rocks were young
(warm-blooded life had just begun).
The breeze plays leaves in sweetest treble
and never tires of its long fable,
in counterpoint to human foible.

This article available online at:

http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2012/06/aspen-song/308974/