Ursa Lake
~ Paul Willis On this shore, red mountain heather tops a rumpled field of boulders, just as flowering bergs of ice make silver gardens on the deep. One layer enfolds another: bees enter the heather blossoms, shake the anthers with their pulse. Snow cracks, and now a long vessel of glass revolves and breaches on a stone, breaking its tender prow in two. So heedless of change, this— a gleaming ship that seeks and finds its own demise. Bubbles spill out from its side and across the waves like lifeboats, carrying the air we breathe. —John Muir Wilderness |