Past Last Water Camp, my dog and I
wind up the north trail,
wade deep sprawls
of late snow.

Left behind is my city job,
the softness of a woman at dawn.
Worries swirl
as I ascend through mist.
I cough a blaze onto the snow–
a shock of redness.
My sarcoid lungs may be the end of me.

Route finding now, I enter a different land.
Unseen across the slopes
A golden burble beckons,
draws me upward.

On the bright summit
I stroke my dog’s ears,
gaze through tears
over endless lowland clouds.