Mountains of the Cortina

A somber Autumns eve,
eyes to sky, to sky for the sign;
to define,
what the mind would define as--
truly undefinable.

The mountain peaks,
upon the moon, the moons horizon;
more feasible,
perhaps atop budding hills--
the answer waits.

An equal possibility,
yet I wont; I will not scale these
bosky fields,
which none have peaked without
conqueror's intent.

Apparitions of heaven,
the apparatus of God, stead fast,
rooted in clay,
born to dirt and rain--
it could exist.

From oaken balcony,
however high, however far;
nothing more
than a hill on moons horizon--
just a dream.