Today I climbed the highest peak in this region the Windy Mount.

My singular wish was to see what its elevation offered.

With one companion my brother who is no better or worse than

anyone else I saw blankets of mushroom fields reducible

to patchworks what the birds’ eye view must see of farms in Genoa.

I went so far up the broken path I supposed I should almost

see the curve of the planet or the whim on which the waves begin

but for the first time in some time I thought of our father at home

the Sirocco in from the south turtle doves in the huge wheat fields.