Perched atop my soft granite cloud
I breathe in the apex of the land
the vast miniature world below
awaits the landing of my fingertips

My fingers
wander across the rusty red mesas
slide down between its soft ribbed slopes
caress its contours
feel the sun baked warmth
brushing against their pads

My lips
kiss the lily white clouds
press against the blue glass sky
burn in the flowering sun
nibble on dark rolling mountains
tongue tasting the icy frosted peaks

My toes
test the tiny tepid lakes
chance upon the gritty texture just below
prickle on the rugged treetops
tap the smooth rocky surface retreating from my perch
dancing in time to the pulse of the wind