A CLIMBER SEES A MONK ON THE TRAIL
If the body’s a temple then climbing
is praying. There’s a prayer in the timing
boot taps on the trail. There’s a note a throb
sensed in one step the next felt in timing
of heartbeat of pulse beat the rising pump
of each breath. What’s the body’s own timing?
Its hum birth to death? What’s the body’s rough
clock-tick its engine its psalm? The timing
is rhythm sweet bebop for God. Listen
You hear it? The body’s praise song? Climbing.