Mineral Point Poem by Ernest Hilbert

11,000 feet

The jeep clambers through shingle and sand.
It lunges and jolts, scrums through creeks,
High to the blocked path of the mining site.
Here, floss of waterfalls spin down Holocene shapes.
These once were ancient islands, bald peaks
Rising far at sea, the ledge on which he stands
Submerged by great waves. Today, at this height,
Engelmann Spruce and Subalpine Fir spur
Old red sediment, and Krummholz, self-entwined,
Scrabbles over the timberline. What escapes
This place? Eagles arc the dark peak, confer
A smallness on all he is left to find.
Huge cumuli horde the high horizon,
And, unfinished, he can only drive back down.