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.