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Mt. Washington, Cougar
As far as mountains go, it’s not very tall
though its winter personality is precariously erratic
and the most difficult to tame.
But during the summer and in my boots,
I climb and climb the various trails
until every foot of its six thousand plus
are behind me and nothing remains
but blue sky, bald summit observatory
and a green beard,
reaching outward all around.
On a clear day, in one complete turn,
I can see the ocean, the concrete peaks
of a city over one hundred miles away,
westward hills humped like camels
against the melting sky,
and northward, another country.
Yet the most striking vision of all
stepped out from a cloud of maples
and padded along the brink,
sure footed and unafraid,
a magnificent cat perusing her property.
Her wide gold face was interrupted
with a white muzzle, intense hazel eyes
and black lips that curled a subtle snarl,
her shoulders vibrated and her tail swayed
as if to sickle the wildflowers. Moments later
she was gone, leaving me alone
to contemplate her perfection,
a lean and muscular mystery
that belonged to the achievement
that was the mountain,
home to such creatures
whose distinction is nature’s miracle,
randomly revealing themselves
from the waterfalls, forests,
and unencumbered caves of this idyllic green cage.
Michael Keshigian: Most recently, Michael Keshigian's work has appeared in Bellowing Ark,
Sierra Nevada College Review, Chantarelle's Notebook; Boston Literary Magazine, and California Quarterly,
among other written and online journals. He has 2 Pushcart Prize nominations, a Best Of The Net nomination
and has had 6 chapbooks published. He is a performing musician and college educator in Boston.
Email: Michael Keshigian
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