I was once a puzzle piece that found my place atop a mountain
let my outline cut into the horizon

Time finally moved on without me
I watched it float away, following the clouds

I stood there like a stoic tree
looking out for miles and miles
at the rolling waves of hills before me and behind me and beside me
the urge to inhale the view like a flame-eater filled me
to see things for what I could paint them to be
to point out which mountains stood tallest by the new snow that decorated them like tablecloths

why is it that I am allowed to see these mountains distant as migrating geese
far enough that I would I would starve before reaching their shores
their womanly curves peppered by trees like the fur of an animal
I knew I was meant to stand on mountains and look out until the world bent
to fit into it like a flea on the warm back of a dog
to have my splintered fleshy feet hold onto its back
how lucky those feet are to be so near it
as to never forget it is real

Many have looked out at these same mountains and believed they had surely conquered them
Staked poles amongst the rolling faces because they had crawled out of their underbelly
those same people are withering gently back into the womb
as these mountains dig their heel deeper into time

I did not feel infantile or brief when I realized that my presence was unnoticed
I knew I was watching a hibernating bear sleep
I had crept into an onyx cave and gazed at my tormentor
as its chest rose and fell like a ticking clock
I saw all that was before me and beside me and behind me
with these hazel leaves I knew one day would dry up
when my October comes